The Joys of Taking Marriage Sex and Family
by GreenEyesGreySkies
Summary: After the war, the 8th year students at Hogwarts are required to take a new class in their final year. The students get paired up and- -well, you get the picture. AU. Which means some characters will be alive even though they aren't supposed to be. *IN THE PROCESS OF MAJOR EDITING: CURRENTLY EDITED UP TO CHAPTER 18. READ AT OWN COST*
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hi guys, this is my second try at Drarry. I really appreciate the tips I received from my last story, I'm definitely going to keep them in mind for this one!**

**Disclaimer: ****All credit for characters goes to J.K. Rowling. **

***edit: This story is AU. Some people are alive, some people are not, and I realize that some of my information is not canon. I just wanted to have fun with it. I hope we are all on the same page with that, sorry for the confusion. **

Chapter 1

"What? What the hell is this?"

Many students turned around to glare at Ron as he stood in the corridor, shouting and gaping at the parchment in his hand. Harry winced a bit at the noise. All students had received their class schedules for the year at the beginning of the day; it was a wonder that Ron hadn't glanced over it earlier. Then again, the boy wasn't known for his perception. Hermione sighed and gave Ron a look.

"What are you squawking about now, Ronald?" she asked.

"It's just—do you see this? I didn't sign up for this class," Ron remarked, pointing at his parchment before peering at Harry's and Hermione's to compare. "We've all got it! Look, right there: Marriage, Sex, and Family. I've never heard of it before... But there is no way I'm going to sit in a classroom and learn about... that." He scowled and began to get red in the face at the thought.

Harry shrugged. The whole idea of new Muggle classes being mixed in with their standard magical ones wasn't really a concern for him; he hadn't minded the extra extensions. Besides, it got him out of some of his more ridiculous options. And if it promoted muggle tolerance and House Unity, then how bad could it be? Dumbledore seemed to think it was a good idea. That must mean something.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Honestly, Ron. Sometimes you can be so dense," she said. "It's really quite good for us and our futures. We'll get to learn about the different_ aspects_ of marriage, sex, and family. My mum took a class just like it while she was in school, and she said that it was a wonderful experience. Besides, you can't get out of it, Dumbledore has made it mandatory for all upperclassmen."

"Oh joy." Ron rolled his eyes. "A wonderful, mandatory experience. How bloody fantastic."

"Are you making fun of my mum?" Hermione demanded.

Ron widened his eyes. "No, of course not, Hermione!"

Not _again_. Harry sighed and ran his hand through his messy raven-coloured hair. After halfheartedly attempting to mediate between Ron and Hermione for a few minutes, he realised that the two were already hopelessly lost in argument, as usual. He gave up and glanced around instead. It was strange being back here with most of his peers as if the past few years had never happened, the war being almost like a dark, shadowy veil upon their consciences. It was uncomfortable and eye-opening at the same time; Harry had found that each student had come back with a different story over their heads—he could look one way and see a classmate he'd saved from a nasty hex, and then look somewhere else and find the person who had thrown it in the first place. It was surreal. But Harry didn't like to think that way now. Anyways, looking at their faces reminded him too much of the sacrifices that had come along with everything they'd fought for. It was almost painful.

Despite the memories, Harry had come back as an Eighth Year mainly because the school needed a familiar source of morale—or whatever McGonagall had called it when she'd brought up the subject to him over the summer—and he had agreed. Maybe it was a sense of home, or nostalgia, or just something to do, but many students who had battled in and survived the war had done the same. However, the train ride in had been somewhat gloomy rather than comforting. Harry wasn't actually surprised that the students involved in the war had been required to take a 'Marriage Sex and Family' class; it was vital to ensure that their futures would see peace rather than chaos. It seemed reasonable.

The war had been difficult, lives were lost, loved ones were sacrificed. Harry knew all about that; he'd always had. But many of the others—he tried not to think of their glum faces—were new to the feeling. It was difficult to look at sometimes... that was something he'd never get used to. In fact, the war had turned many of these students into hardened warriors and Harry knew that this class would probably be a great benefit for them. Voldemort had affected them all in some way or another, really screwed up a lot of minds. Harry would know, of course, firsthand. He could still feel the fear he had felt during that final battle with Voldemort at the end of last school year, and sometimes he even woke up from a particularly bad flashback with his wand grasped tightly in his hand in defence against some invisible terror. So the relief he felt now, to be back at school with no Voldemort and no war, was tremendous, and he knew that the others felt the same. Even the Slytherins—the ones who had not been convicted Death Eaters—were visibly eased by the place.

"But if you could just _admit_ that there was something wonky about that Krum fellow—"

Harry shook his head. Ron and Hermione were still bickering.

"For Merlin's sake, Ron, I am not discussing this with you any longer!" Hermione exclaimed.

Ron scowled. "I'm sure you would discuss it with Harry, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, because _Harry_ doesn't act like a child about it!"

Harry cleared his throat. "Um. Can we go to class now?" he asked.

Hermione straightened out her robes and flicked her hair in Ron's general direction with a sniff. "Of course. Let's go."

After much checking and re-checking (and more arguing), the trio finally made their way to the Room of Requirement where the Marriage Sex and Family class was to be held. Harry hadn't known what to expect, so when he saw the contents of the room, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. It was impressive, to say the least. The room was plenty spacious to fit all the students and looked almost comfortable, and the benches and tables were lined up neatly behind a large blackboard. There was an area in the back with an inviting fireplace and a couple of couches surrounding it. For a makeshift class, it was rather inviting. It wasn't a standard classroom, he decided, but then again, this wasn't a standard class.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all immediately met with cheerful bellowing and shouting upon arrival. Both Ron and Hermione managed to bat off most with small smiles, but many students were more aggressive towards Harry and would stop at nothing to give him enthusiastic thanks. It was the sort of thing that he knew he had to get used to, especially now that school had started and he had to go about in public places again, but it was still awkward for him. During the summer, Harry had opted to hide in the Burrow with the Weasleys to avoid the inevitable adoration of the community (although, Mrs. Weasley was not much better with containing it), and it was slightly difficult being back. Harry had always been uncomfortable with attention, and although he had years of constant scrutiny at Hogwarts to prepare him for the response, he was never really ready to receive it. Harry cringed as one girl flung her arms around his neck for a moment before running off again.

"Harry!"

A loud, joyful voice met Harry's ears and he was quickly enveloped into another bone-crushing hug from behind. This time, it was a familiar squeeze and voice and Harry was glad to receive it.

"Seamus," Harry greeted back.

Seamus let go of him. "How are you there, mate?"

Harry grinned and turned around to face his Irish friend. "Great. How are you?" he asked.

"Absolutely fantastic now that we're back. We've missed you," Seamus said, earnestly. Neville popped up from behind him.

"Yeah, it's been a long summer," Neville confirmed.

Harry smiled at him. "Hey Nev."

Harry hadn't seen or spoken to Neville since the end of the last year, and he hoped that the other boy knew just how much he appreciated everything that had been done on the night of the final battle. It had been a rough fight for everyone, but Neville especially. Harry never really had the chance to express his gratitude towards his friend; Neville had been a true hero, and his parents would have been so proud of him. Harry only wished that he could find the words to say it properly.

Before he could do anything, though, Harry was ambushed by a rushing Hermione.

"Harry," she said fiercely. "Class is starting soon. Ron's already got us seats."

Harry obeyed her silently, walking over and sliding down next to Ron on one of the cool benches. He scooted over a bit for Hermione to join them, and she began to take out her supplies eagerly in wait. Did anyone actually know which Professor was teaching the class? Harry glanced about the classroom again, absently letting his eyes roam. The first thing he caught sight of was a shocking head of white-blond hair and its owner stalking into the room and sitting down on one of the opposite benches in the back with the other Slytherins.

"Malfoy," muttered Ron, following Harry's gaze. "Didn't see him on the train, I thought he hadn't come back this year. Pity." The redhead shot a glare in the Slytherin's general direction and shifted away.

Harry only glanced over at Malfoy, not saying anything, and carefully observed the boy talking in quiet whispers with his friends. Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, wasn't it? Malfoy was constantly flanked by those two. Harry narrowed his eyes and looked Malfoy up and down. The Slytherin appeared particularly... normal today. Almost harmless. In all honesty, Harry didn't really see Malfoy as a real threat anymore. When Ron had spent many hours ranting about how the Slytherins had squirmed out of their rightful sentences in Azkaban—especially Malfoy and his 'goddamned cronies'—Harry had never said anything, but he secretly disagreed.

In his opinion, the Slytherins that had come back for school this year had learned their lessons. They were the ones that had grown up in households that had taught them to be the way they were; Harry had only just realised that maybe that was the main source of the problem. War had forced everybody to become his or her own person, though, and that included the Slytherins. Even Draco Malfoy. And though Malfoy was a great prat, Harry had learned a couple of things about him during the war, and now Harry didn't believe that Malfoy had ever really been Death Eater material like his father. Lucius had deserved Azkaban, but his son was a different story. Harry was determined to give the git some credit, at least. They were all adults now, weren't they? Besides, Harry had always been able to handle Malfoy. If the blond had ever done anything to hurt Harry, it was by his own vengeance, not Voldemort's or even his father's. It was little comfort, but still.

Just then, Malfoy caught sight of Harry looking at him, and for a moment looked as if he would just let it go. He apparently decided otherwise, though, and he threw a halfhearted sneer at Harry instead. Harry rolled his eyes and jerked his head away. Of course. Malfoy may have not been evil, but he was still a bastard. A bastard that Harry shouldn't really be thinking about in the first place. What was Malfoy to him, anyways? At least this year he wouldn't have to worry about the Slytherin harassing him so much.

"Silence."

There was a chilling silence as the familiar voice rang out from the front of the room. Harry glanced up and found Snape glaring at the students with such murderous intent that he might've been actually afraid for his life if he hadn't known the man for so long. Harry shook his head. Wait, _Snape_ was their Marriage Sex and Family professor? No fucking way. The former Potions professor's black robes swirled around him ominously as he surveyed the classroom, still sneering.

"Bloody hell, would you look at his face?" Ron whispered. "And I thought it was bad in Potions. Has Dumbledore gone barmy?"

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley. Have you not learned to shut your trap after all of these years?" Snape barked, without even having to look at him. Ron shriveled obediently, muttering under his breath. Snape's glare hardened as he continued to look about the room. "You all know that I am Professor Snape, and this is Marriage Sex and Family," he said. "No, I am not in the wrong class, and neither are you. I expect only the best, regardless of the criteria. So if you had believed that this class would simply serve as an extra course to slack off in—" he glowered in Harry's general direction, " —you've been sorely mistaken."

Harry groaned inwardly, knowing that Snape's sour attitude for being assigned as the professor for this class would be reflected upon the rest of them. For Merlin's sake. Couldn't he have gone at least one year without this man lashing out?

Snape continued. "This class is meant to prepare you for your future as adults and further your knowledge on how to survive it," he went on. "You will learn the concepts of marriage and life with children and a family. Accordingly, you may also receive a proper sexual education." He grimaced slightly, clearly revolted by this. Seamus snickered, and the man shot him an icy warning stare in response. Seamus quieted.

Snape whirled around and spoke to the other side of the classroom. "I will assign you all into pairs. Your partner will become your "husband" or "wife" for the rest of the year, and you will experience all of the joys and perils of marriage and family life with them throughout this class. I will read off names momentarily. There will be no argument."

Ron leaned over and nudged Harry's shoulder. "Hope you get someone fit, mate," he whispered.

Harry shrugged. He didn't really care about looks, as long as they didn't go mental on him. Still, it couldn't hurt. He nodded back at his friend. "You too."

At this point, Snape had brought out a small parchment and cleared his throat for emphasis. "Your names appear on this parchment as I read them," he announced. "It will shuffle the names at random and produce the pairs. Listen for your partner and sit with them after you have located them."

Harry bit his lip, glancing around his group of friends and hoping to Merlin that he was paired with one of them. It was one thing to have to take this sort of class, and completely another to have to be tied to somebody all year because of it. It was annoying, to say the least, and a bit nerve wracking. Harry already had troubles keeping steady relationships with his new owls, let alone other people. Honestly, if he had to be tied to anyone... Harry scanned the rows, looking at all the faces.

Hermione, of course, would have to be his first choice seeing as she was his best friend—plus, there was a high chance that she would do most of the work. Lavender Brown was fit and seemed clever enough, although there was still that whole psycho debacle with Ron... and either one of the Patil twins Harry could live with. Even Ginny would be all right, as she was still a close friend, despite the fact that she was the infamous ex-girlfriend. Harry's eyes traveled further down the rows towards the Slytherins. Oh, Millicent Bulstrode, Merlin no. And Pansy Parkinson… he shuddered. There was no way he wanted to get paired with one of them. The thought in itself was frightening enough.

Snape tapped on the sheet with his wand and began calling out names. "Miss Granger and Mr. Zabini. Miss Lovegood and Mr. Longbottom. Miss Parkinson and Mr. Weasley. Mr. Nott and Miss Weasley. Mr. Finnigan and Mr. Thomas."

The greasy professor paused, shock flickering over his features briefly before returning to its proper scowl. Harry almost rolled his eyes as Snape's hardened gaze fell upon him. Gods, what was it now? Had he been paired up with the long-lost monster of the lake? Or perhaps Voldemort back from the dead? It wouldn't have surprised him. Harry's school years surely hadn't always been referred to as the smoothest of times at Hogwarts. Nevertheless, Harry took a deep breath, preparing himself for anything that Snape threw at him. Whatever it was, he was sure that he could handle it.

When Snape finally spoke again, his tone was as sharp as daggers. "Mr. Potter and... Mr. Malfoy," he drawled. There were gasps throughout the room.

Harry felt all of the colour drain from his face. Fuck, he wasn't about to handle _that._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter. Every little thing is appreciated! **

Chapter 2

"_What_?"

Harry and Malfoy had both leaped out of their seats in protest as soon as the words were out of Snape's mouth. In surprise, Harry's head snapped towards Malfoy just as Malfoy glared back at him. Well, so much for avoiding Malfoy this year; the git was his new bloody husband! Harry scowled and turned away, the familiar feeling of anger bubbling up in his chest.

"No, sir I can't—"

"There must be some way—"

"I will _not_ work with—"

"You have got to be kidding—"

"Shut up and sit down, or you will both lose a tremendous amount of House points." Snape's gaze was cold.

Harry plopped back down on the bench quickly and from the corner of his eye, saw Malfoy doing the same. He did not dare to look at Snape, who was probably glaring ice cubes by now. Fucking hell.

"I do not care what either of you do or say, your assignment is final," Snape snarled. "I had said that there would be no argument. That goes for everybody else, too—I do not wish to hear one more protest; I hear another and there will be detention. For everyone. Do I make myself clear?"

Gods, Snape was on it today. The students all groaned mutually, but no one else uttered another word of complaint, as was suspected. Snape pursed his lips and raised his parchment again. "Good," he grumbled. "Now sit with your partners and I will proceed to assign…"

Harry glanced over at Malfoy, but the other boy had purposely not moved an inch and did not look as if he were going to. Bloody git. Harry sighed, picking up his things and exchanging sympathetic looks with his friends before stalking over to Malfoy's bench. The Slytherins gave him cool stares as he made his way down the aisle—Merlin, he hated the staring! Harry made a point to sit down at the very opposite end of the bench, where most of the Slytherins had avoided, and wished to be as far from them as possible. Malfoy sat very still, his legs crossed in a proper manner and his pointy face purposefully turned away from Harry. Harry's lip curled; this bench was certainly not big enough for the two of them—this _school _wasn't big enough for the two of them. Fuck acting like adults. Being in such close range with Malfoy again reminded Harry of the reasons why he had hated the git so much. For one, Malfoy was a stubborn son of a bitch.

Harry seethed inwardly at the man in the front of the room. This was so unfair. Snape must have planned it, the pairing was just too perfect to be a complete accident. The professor may have earned Harry's respect after he had learned of his true loyalties, but Snape would always be an outright bastard. How in the name of Merlin did the man believe that Harry and Malfoy were ever going to actually work with each other? They weren't. It would take the threat of the whole world blowing up into bits before they could even stand to be _civil _to one another. And that might not even do it.

Harry chanced another peek at Malfoy and found that the other boy was still staring straight ahead with a carefully painted expression of boredom on his face. Harry raised an eyebrow. He knew Malfoy well enough by now to know that the composure was completely fake. Malfoy was _furious_; it was a trend of his. Harry had noticed that the Slytherin always seemed to use that face whenever he was angry or defeated—like whenever he lost the snitch, yet again, to Harry during a match, or if Harry managed to throw back a particularly biting retort. Ha. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit triumphant knowing that he was the only one who could make Malfoy use that face. And it was quite comical, really, how Malfoy dealt with those sort of things. Like a child who hadn't gotten his way. It was certainly fitting for his personality.

But then again, this tantrum wasn't for nothing—this was actually a pretty big deal. Harry didn't like it, but he knew that he was the only person who could get under Malfoy's skin and Malfoy was the only person who could get under his, and now that they were here, there was no way to stop the chaos that would ultimately ensue. It would be a disaster. Mutual dislike was all that Harry had ever known with Malfoy, and sure, they had survived a war together, but for what? They wouldn't survive this class together as long as they were stuck with this ridiculous assignment. Harry wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, thinking about all the horrible fights that were going to come due to this awful class. For Merlin's sake, they were going to _murder_ each other.

In the midst of his thoughts, Harry had yet to notice Malfoy staring back at him with a quizzical look. Harry blinked and shook his head, suddenly realising that he had been gazing at the blond for over five minutes now. Oh. He gulped and tried to play it off by directing his stare away from the other boy slowly, but Malfoy wasn't fooled. His grey eyes bore into the side of Harry's face with careful scrutiny. Harry tried not to move.

After a few more minutes of awkward avoiding, Malfoy took a different approach and slid down the bench until he was right next to Harry. "Has my face suddenly become an interest of yours, Potter?" he asked, his lip curling up into a sneer.

Harry turned and frowned at him as if he were just noticing him for the first time. "Your face has always been an interest of mine, Malfoy," he spat back, without thinking.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows at that and proceeded to snort in amusement, only it couldn't have been because Malfoys didn't show amusement. Harry decided that if it was at someone else's expense it might be okay, though. "Careful, Potty," Malfoy mocked. "You wouldn't want anybody to get any _ideas._" He promptly slid back down to the edge of the bench before Harry could even reply, smirking the whole way.

Yeah, definitely amusement at his expense. Harry decided to ignore Malfoy's last comment and glared furiously at his own fingertips instead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why was he always saying such stupid things around Malfoy? They had been going at it for years now, and Harry couldn't come up with anything better? Stupid Malfoy. Stupid class.

Snape had just finished the last pairing, observing the students settling down with their partners before speaking again. "Now that you are all partnered up, I will go into more detail with what we are going to be accomplishing this year," he said. "Your partner is going to be the person you will be spending most of your time with and you will get to know them as you would in a real relationship. Ideally, this will create an actual bond."

Harry rolled his eyes and looked around the room for his friends, seeing Hermione glance nervously towards a stoic Blaise Zabini and Ron wide-eyed as Pansy Parkinson smirked at him evilly. Damn it, they were all screwed. How were they going to stick together when they were supposed to hang out with a bunch of Malfoy's friends all the time? Not to mention Malfoy himself... Harry refused to look at his own partner as Snape continued.

"Your first assignment is to spend a week together learning about each other's traits, likes, dislikes, hobbies and whatever other simple-minded paraphernalia you can gather about a person. I expect a full essay about your partner, analysing the things that you have in common and things that you view differently, and how that would or would not make a functional relationship."

Oh yeah, because he and Malfoy were definitely masters of functional relationships. Together, they could conquer the world. Harry rolled his eyes. Brilliant.

"Class is dismissed."

Thank Merlin. Harry got up quickly and dashed over to where Ron and Hermione were already huddled up together. He clutched Ron's shoulder and the other boy looked back at him gravely. "Bloody hell," Ron said, shaking his head. "_Slytherins_."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Just our luck."

"It's curious, us three getting paired up with them three," Hermione said. "Snape had said that it was random, but that was rather convenient..."

Harry sighed. "I reckon Dumbledore had something to do with it," he remarked. "Anyways, I'm as a good as dead. Bloody Malfoy." Harry wrinkled his nose and watched the blond head disappear out of the room with the other Slytherins. Stupid Malfoy, and his stupid blond hair and his stupid friends. Stupid.

Hermione gave him a pointed look. "He hasn't done anything horrible this year, Harry," she insisted. "He seems to have mellowed out... At least, he hasn't said anything nasty to us."

"To _you,_" Harry corrected, remembering Malfoy's taunting tone from before. "He's already said plenty to me."

Ron snorted as well. "Hermione, it's only the first day back and we hadn't even seen him until this class," he pointed out. "Obviously, Malfoy hasn't had enough_ time_ to torture us yet. Don't get your hopes up, he's just the same old mean Malfoy."

Hermione shoved his shoulder in response. She didn't seem to have an argument to that.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, and he'll have the whole year to torture me," he mumbled miserably. The image of Malfoy's smirking face entered his mind and he shook his head to get rid of it. What a nightmare.

**~x~**

When dinnertime finally rolled around, Harry was starving. There was something distinct about going to classes again for the year that had always been exhausting for him, and Harry hadn't attended them for two now since the start of the war. It was somewhat of a refreshing thing to have that feeling back, though... almost nostalgic in a way. He could hardly believe that it had been so long since he'd attended the Welcoming Feast; it seemed as if it were only yesterday that he had entered this room for the first time.

Harry ambled into the Great Hall, chatting with his friends and expecting to claim his usual spot at the Gryffindor table, but when he glanced over to look for it, he found that the tables had been rearranged to fit another table with banners of all the house colours combined. The normal House tables were situated around it and Harry had to wonder for a moment whether this was yet another ploy at House unity—Dumbledore seemed to be full of those lately. But why would... Harry suddenly caught sight of many of his fellow Eighth Years being escorted over to the colourful new addition, and the wheels began to click in his brain. _Oh, fuck me, _he thought, grumbling to himself. This was going to be unpleasant.

At that moment, Dumbledore caught his eye and smiled benignly; Harry could tell that he was enjoying himself. Of course he was. Harry shook his head and rubbed his temples. The old Headmaster was definitely going a bit overboard with all of this. Hadn't it been centuries since the Great Hall table layout had been altered? What was the point? Harry sighed. Well, he supposed maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he had to sit with a stray Hufflepuff or two. It might even work, the unity thing, as long as he wasn't seated anywhere uncomfortable—like between Zabini and Parkinson, for example.

Dumbledore began to speak up as soon as the confusion in the hall buzzed to a high that couldn't be ignored. "Students, as you may have noticed, there is indeed an extra table in the Great Hall," he announced. "This will be for the students taking the Marriage Sex and Family course, as for each get to know one another better. Instead of sitting by House, you will be sitting with your partner from the class. And you shall have an assigned seat to ensure that you don't try to sneak out of it." The man stopped to wink at Harry. Harry merely cringed.

Oh dear Merlin, so he _did _have to sit in an uncomfortable place—right next to Malfoy, in perfect range for the slimy git to choke him or poison him or... or... there were simply too many possibilities. He would be dead in a fortnight! Fuck. Harry wanted to punch something. Was the whole staff trying to kill him? What kind of 'thanks-for-defeating-Voldemort-and-saving-our-ars es' present was this? Not that he wanted one, of course. But still.

Dumbledore beamed and nodded at the whispering, waiting crowd. "If you will, Severus," he said calmly.

Harry turned around to find Snape standing at the end of the table, still looking sour as ever. The man began to assign seats, placing Harry and Malfoy right across from Zabini and Hermione, with Ron and Parkinson a couple of seats down from them. Harry started to breathe a little when he noticed Neville and Luna not too far away and Seamus and Dean close by. At least he wasn't in completely foreign territory, even if he did have to sit next to Malfoy... in fact, as Harry glanced around, he noticed that despite the three Slytherins, all of his friends surrounded him. Yes! Harry felt like smirking; he could practically feel the tension wafting off from Malfoy right about now. The other boy had his main friends, but the rest of the sparse Slytherin population were nowhere to be found. Harry felt a little better by this. At least he had some sort of advantage over Malfoy, if at all—it was as much consolation as he could hope for.

When Harry searched again, he noticed that Ginny had been placed further down the table, and he suddenly felt very sorry for her. She was isolated from the rest of the Gryffindors, and he knew for a fact that it was no fun being alone in this sort of situation—besides, he knew that he could use her lighthearted and brazen disposition at the moment. Sitting next to her was Nott, her partner, and he was currently sporting narrowed eyes and pursed lips as if he'd just tasted a lemon. Harry frowned. For godssake, the Slytherin was a rude prat. Then Harry stole a glance at Malfoy—not that his partner was any better.

Malfoy caught him. "What the fuck are you staring at, Potter?" he snarled.

"Nothing," Harry muttered.

Malfoy sneered at him again, and Harry rolled his eyes, turning away. Maybe the person he should really feel sorry for was himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading/reviewing!**

Chapter 3

The food appeared in front of the students after they had all been seated, but suddenly, Harry didn't feel so hungry anymore. Gods, this wasn't going any better than class today. Across from him, Hermione kept giving him nervous looks; her feeble attempts to make friendly conversation with Zabini were quickly failing. Harry poked at his plate with a fork and sighed. There was an awkward, heavy silence hanging over their section of the table. Harry was desperate to break the tension.

"So, uh… Luna, how are you?" he asked.

"Rather well, although I haven't seen any Nargles all day," Luna remarked, a dreamy look in her wide eyes. "I reckon they're following you about, Harry. They sense your nerves."

Harry flushed. "Erm, I haven't noticed anything following me."

Malfoy snickered. "Perhaps you're sitting on them, Potter?" he taunted.

Harry ignored him. Instead, he looked to Hermione for support, but she was still trying to reel Zabini into conversation—Zabini, of course, wasn't having it. Harry turned to get Ron's attention, but the other boy was too busy arguing with Parkinson over silverware. Well, fuck. This was a lost cause. Harry rested his arm against the table and sighed. He might as well just grin and bear it—dinner was only an hour, anyway. If he could just keep his head low and focus his whole attention on the food in front of him for the rest of the meal, he'd be all right...

"Potter, _hello,_ earth to Scarhead!"

Harry glanced up. Malfoy appeared irritated, and he was waving his hand in front of Harry to get his immediate attention. Harry tried not to roll his eyes. _Don't get angry, don't get angry... _He forced an expression of calm neutrality and looked at Malfoy.

"What?" he asked dully.

"Deaf as well as blind, as if that's a fucking surprise," Malfoy snarled. "I swear, you are absolutely incompetent. I said, pass the potatoes."

Harry pursed his lips. "Calm down, Malfoy. I know that this may come as a shock to you, but I don't happen to fancy listening to you bitch and whinge all of the time."

Malfoy made a fake pouty face, which, of course, looked ridiculous on him. "Well, that explains it," the Slytherin sneered sarcastically. "I clearly hadn't realised that I was _so_ uninteresting that the Great Harry Potter couldn't bear to listen to me for _five seconds_. I'm heartbroken. I'll go cry in a corner now."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Be my guest," he muttered. "At least I won't have to look at you anymore."

"Where are your manners, Potter?" Malfoy exclaimed. "You are supposed to be the Blessed Saviour of the Wizarding World. I read it in the Prophet!"

"For fuck's sake, shut up." Harry glared at Malfoy, but the other boy's expression of mock concern was infuriatingly unmoved. Gods, it was taking all that Harry had not to get up and slap the smug grin right off Malfoy's face then and there. Harry was trying, he really was. But one more insult from Malfoy's big, fat mouth...

Said big, fat mouth had begun to curl into its familiar smirk, clearly as result from the dangerous look on Harry's face. "I know what I'm going to write in my essay," Malfoy announced all of the sudden, pretending to pull out an invisible parchment and tap an equally invisible quill against his chin as he spoke. "Harry Potter is a whingy and dense bloke who doesn't seem to own a proper hairbrush. He likes stupid redheads and bushy know-it-alls and dislikes passing potatoes to incredibly handsome Slytherins. His hobbies include staring off into space counting all of the daft people who blindly adore him."

Harry could practically feel the heated rage coming off of himself in waves; he clenched his jaw so tightly he could almost taste his own blood. Malfoy only paused for a moment to shoot an evil grin at him. "But despite all of his obvious faults, we'd have a brilliant relationship because..." Malfoy's grin became wider and eviler, "...of all the hot, kinky, _hero_ sex. The end."

Mother of Merlin's bastard child. Harry's face had never burned more in his entire life—he was going to _murder_ Malfoy! The blond Slytherin was still smirking at Harry while Parkinson and Zabini howled with wild laughter at their leader's wit. Then, much to the enjoyment of the Slytherins and the horror of the Gryffindors, Malfoy winked at Harry and blew him an over-the-top saucy kiss.

"This is certainly going to be educational, Potter," he remarked.

Harry growled. "I'm going to fucking tear you apart, Malfoy."

"Whoa." Malfoy grinned lecherously. "Someone's feeling a bit randy, aren't we? Save it for the bedroom, pet."

Oh gods. Harry was going to_ kill_ him. No, he really was. His arm even twitched a bit, but before he could actually move, Ron stepped in to save him. "Shut the fuck up, Ferret," Ron said coldly, his blue eyes flashing. Malfoy only laughed.

"Or what?" he taunted. "You'll send your pack of impoverished Weasels after me? I think I'll live."

"Hey!" Ron shouted.

"You're out of line, Malfoy!" Seamus cut in now, leaning across the table. Dean was nodding next to him, a hard expression on his normally cheerful face. "Yeah, don't talk about Ron that way," Neville added scaldingly. "Or Harry."

Malfoy looked bored. "Oh look," he drawled. "_It_ speaks. I see you've got all of your dogs on this one, Potter."

Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville all looked properly ruffled by that, and Harry saw red. "Fuck you, Malfoy!" he snapped.

Malfoy only smirked. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Harry was about to answer with an old-fashioned right hook to the jaw, but Hermione swooped in first, clearly having had enough. "Leave them all alone, Malfoy," she said fiercely, staring at the boy with obvious disgust. "You're absolutely horrible. And to be honest, I'd reckon the scum on the bottom of Harry's trainers is more worthy of him than you'll ever be... stop _begging_ for his attention."

Her comment seemed to bother Malfoy a little, as his face went completely blank for a moment before shifting back into his trademark sneer. "It was a big joke, Granger; I'd never touch the likes of Potty. Good news, he's all _yours_." He turned and gave Harry an appraising look. "Hey Four Eyes, perhaps you should learn to control your mudblood girlfriend. Fasten a proper leash around those buck teeth of hers."

Ron made a strangled, animalistic sort of noise at that, but Neville held him still—Harry himself had his fists curled up tight in an instant, his blood boiling with hot, livid ferocity, the way it always did whenever he got into heated debates with Malfoy about these things. It was getting bad. "I swear to fucking Merlin, Malfoy," Harry hissed, "if I ever hear you utter another bad word about Hermione or Ron or any of my friends again, I will not hesitate to rip your head off and shove it up your arse."

Malfoy put his hands up in mock defence. "Calm down. I never said anything about violence, all I wanted was a delicious first course side."

"I'm not playing around, Malfoy," Harry warned. "Your head. Your _arse_."

Malfoy smiled nastily. "Please, Potter. Be a good little wife and pass me the fucking potatoes."

Harry bristled. "Oh, _no_. I am not the wife, _you_ are!"

"To hell I am!" Malfoy scoffed. "You're so feminine Potter, I have to wonder if you are actually a ponce. I wouldn't be surprised, with the way that you have held your girlfriends over the past few years—or should I say, haven't?"

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "Yeah, you'd be the one to call me feminine," he remarked snidely. "Tell me, Malfoy, are your hands too delicate to eat with?"

Malfoy balked at that. "I am simply not a barbarian like you!"

"Oh really? Are you sure it's not because you don't want to ruin your perfect manicure?"

"Shut up, Potter!"

"_You_ shut up, Malfoy!"

As if on cue, wands were out and they were glaring at each other, the air surrounding them suddenly very heavy and dense. Harry's heartbeat quickened. _Finally_. He hadn't fought with Malfoy since before the war, but Harry was sure that it would be just as they had never stopped. There was just something about Malfoy that was so constant, no matter if they were arguing or dueling, and that was somewhat of a comfort to Harry. It was so that at least he knew that some things hadn't changed... not that Harry particularly liked fighting with Malfoy. It was just something that was an inevitable part of life.

Malfoy's grey eyes were gleaming now and he lifted his chin in defiance towards Harry. "What are you going to do, hit me with a wittle baby hex? Your famous Expelliarmus spell? Oh, your parents would be so proud!"

"What about your parents, Malfoy?" Harry countered. "Are they proud of the scar on your arm?"

Malfoy bristled. "Certainly not as proud as yours are of the scar on your fucking face," he snarled. "I heard it was to _die_ for."

Harry stood up suddenly, the bench screeching back with a loud, echoing noise. He pointed his wand directly at Malfoy's throat. "I know a lot of curses. Horrible, dark curses. If you think that I'm too good to use them on you, you're wrong."

There was always a certain point in every fight like this... After all had been said and done, when every possible insult and weak spot had been thrown back and forth... And now, nobody was playing anymore. All of the taunting mockery had disappeared from Malfoy's expression as he stood up too, jabbing his wand into Harry's chest with a hardened glare. Harry understood, heart racing even faster now, that they were about to have this fight—not a pathetic, puny fight, but a real one. Like old times. The thought gave him a strange, whirling rush. It was the first time in a long time that he had felt so acutely_ alive_.

"Potter. Malfoy."

However, it was not meant to be. Harry glanced to the side—Snape was already there, halting their duel. His mouth was set in a thin line and his eyes were like pointed lasers as he stared them down. "Dungeons," he spat. "Now."

Harry felt his wand being whisked out of his grasp and saw Malfoy's had gone the same. In one brisk movement, Snape had Harry by the collar and Malfoy by the arm, and soon enough they were both being aggressively dragged out of the Hall and down to Snape's old potions classroom in the dungeons. Once there, Snape threw them inside, the door slamming behind him with a loud crash.

"Sit down," he commanded.

Harry and Malfoy both sat down quickly, avoiding looking at one another. Harry stared at his desk. Fucking Malfoy.

Snape slapped two pieces of parchment and two quills down in front of them. "You are not little boys anymore," he snapped. "You are young _men_, and you will act as such from now on—that means no more fighting or I swear, I will have you both in here every day for the rest of your pathetic, meaningless lives! Now, you will start by answering these questions and writing down each other's answers, and you will not leave until the entire questionnaire is filled out. If you try and escape, you will be severely punished. Is that clear?"

They nodded sullenly.

"Good." Snape glared at them once more before sweeping out of the classroom, the door slamming ominously behind him.

There were a few moments of silence before Malfoy groaned and rolled his eyes. "This is all your fault," he complained. "You just had to get up and show everybody how tough and brave Harry Potter is." He picked up his quill and scowled at the parchment.

Harry gaped at him. "_My_ fault? You bloody started it by talking to me!"

"I merely asked you to pass the goddamned potatoes, Potter!"

They were glaring at each other again.

Harry sighed and clenched his jaw. He was fucking pissed, of course, but he wasn't going to let Malfoy get them both into more trouble than they already were in. He picked up his quill too. "This is ridiculous," he grumbled. "Let's just do this and get it over with so that we can leave." He turned away to grab his parchment.

Malfoy blinked, clearly surprised that Harry had backed down first. "Fine," he muttered.

They sat in silence again for a couple of minutes.

"Fine, okay, I'll start." Harry cleared his throat, quill poised over his parchment. "What is your favourite colour?" This was so stupid.

Malfoy sniffed. "Green, obviously," he answered, glancing down at his parchment. "And yours?"

"Erm... same."

Malfoy looked back up in disbelief. "No shit? I'd have thought it would be Gryffindor red or something equally garish."

Harry snorted. "Well, surprise to you then," he said dryly.

"Yeah, whatever. What is your favourite subject?"

"Defence against the Dark Arts."

"No fucking surprise there."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm going to guess yours is Potions, then?"

"Actually, it's Arithmancy."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

The questions continued to be quite similar to those, and Harry was surprised to find that in the next hour and a half of survey, he and Malfoy did not directly insult each other once—well, of course, there had been the usual subtle insults and halfhearted glares, but all in all, they had both tread tentatively enough for each question... It was actually a miracle. Harry had to admit, this was quite amazing for them; he hadn't thought they'd get out of this alive...Thankfully, neither of them had let out any sort of parent jab or anything. After they had finally finished the questions, Malfoy stood up and walked briskly to the door.

"This has been interesting Potter, but I do have other things to attend to tonight," he drawled, as if it were completely of his decision to be here. Harry rolled his eyes. Well, at least he was done with the Slytherin prat for tonight. That thought in itself was comforting enough to give him reason not to throw a snappy retort back. Malfoy pulled on the door handle, but it didn't budge. Seeming confused and slightly annoyed, he turned back to Harry. "It won't open."

As if Summoned, Snape came bursting through the door, almost knocking Malfoy over in the process (Harry wished that he had). "Now that you two are finished, you may go. But first—" Snape stopped Malfoy from barreling out the door. "Dumbledore and I have come to an agreement that you will meet here every week for questioning like this. Yes, only you two, don't look so incredulous, Potter. If you boys don't spend extra time on this, it is believed that you will both fail this course. If you fail, you will have to retake it. Yes, that means an extra year here at Hogwarts, don't make that face, Malfoy. I expect there will be no more arguments from now on."

Harry wilted inwardly. He couldn't graduate if they didn't pass the course. He couldn't graduate if he and Malfoy continued to fight. _But that's all we ever do_, he thought helplessly. He glared at Snape, knowing that it would do no good but couldn't stop himself from doing it anyway. Why did the worst tragedies always happen to him?

Snape lifted his chin. "Now you may go."

Harry and Malfoy bolted from the room simultaneously, both in shock from what they had just heard. Harry rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. "Well, shit," he remarked after a while, looking over at Malfoy as they walked down the corridor. "This is going to be... interesting."

Malfoy nodded numbly. "Yeah," he agreed. "Snape might as well have just said, 'you will learn the joys of marriage together, damn it, and you will fucking like it!'

It was a rather good imitation of Snape, Harry had to admit. Of course, it was no surprise that Malfoy was an expert—Snape _was_ the boy's Head of House. Despite that, Harry couldn't stop himself from snorting a bit, however the cost. It was the first not-horrible remark he'd ever gotten from the Slytherin.

"Well, I reckon that's what we'll have to try to do then," Harry mused.

Malfoy paused, his face twisting a bit at the prospect.

"I reckon so."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I've been writing in Harry's POV for the last three chapters, so I thought I'd switch it up and make it Draco's for the next three. **

Chapter 4

After the two boys had split ways down the corridor, Draco began to wander aimlessly down more corridors. He didn't feel like going back to the Slytherin common room quite yet. Of course, it was well after curfew, but Draco didn't care. He just needed to clear his head. _This assignment is insane,_ he thought. _This whole class is insane. This school is insane; this world is insane. I'm insane._

Draco laughed bitterly. Was it just his imagination or was Potter staring at him more often these days? He'd played it off before, but it was starting to unnerve him a little. Sure, he had expected that Potter would be paying some kind of attention to him now that they were back at school, but he hadn't expected the staring—it was like Sixth year all over again... Draco had to wonder if Potter thought that he was up to something. It irritated him. Couldn't he go two steps without Potter trailing behind him as if he were a criminal?

But then again, perhaps that was what Potter still thought of Draco. The barmy Gryffindor didn't know a lot of things about him... right before the war, Draco had changed sides—at the very end of Sixth year, in fact—and from then on, had acted as a personal double agent for Dumbledore. It had been a very covert job, and the loyalties of Draco were still unknown to his friends and most of his family; not even Potter had been informed of the change. Draco had preferred to keep it that way, and therefore insisted on secrecy, but it was still annoying how Potter still walked around acting like he was better than Draco. He _wasn't_. Mostly.

Draco's reason for switching sides had been simple: he'd stuck by his family. Though Lucius had gone and royally fucked up, Draco had always looked up to Narcissa—he'd respected her, stuck by her, did everything to keep her happy. But the summer before Sixth year, she had confided in him that their side—Voldemort's—was not what Draco had always been told it was. And in time, Draco had discovered that she was right; Voldemort's campaign was all about power. An immense amount of power, yes, but with that power came a price—a terrible price of innocent lives taken and constant fear. Draco did not want to pay it. One night, Narcissa had informed him that she was going to switch sides on the sly and she wanted him to come with her. And so, right then, Draco made a pact with his mother that he would never join the ranks of Voldemort. He would never sell his soul to the Devil. He would never throw his life away. And he would fight for the right side to the very last moment...

But a year or two after Draco had made that pact, his mother had gone missing. It had been his Seventh year and he was preoccupied with many things; Potter had come back from who-knows-where and full out battle had occurred, throwing Draco's covert mission into disarray and confusion... He had not had time to locate Narcissa. It was then that she had vanished completely and Draco had heard that she was suspected of being a traitor... She never came back. And even now, Draco prayed every morning and night that she was safe, wherever she was—_i__f_ she was. Gods, he missed her terribly. Draco shook his head. It hurt to think about these things, so he typically didn't; he liked to block out these emotions with a stone wall of composure, and his trusty go-to hadn't broken down yet, though he was constantly afraid that it might. Especially when it came to thinking about the war. And his mother.

Draco sighed and carried on through the empty corridors. It was a corny thing to say, but Draco felt like a changed man. He really did. And for some reason, he rarely felt as if he were much of a figure anymore. Of course, his friends and Housemates had tried many times to connect with him, take him by the hand and crown him their fearless, ruthless leader once more, but no matter what they did, they'd never quite succeeded. Perhaps the stress of his life for the past few years had finally gotten to him, or perhaps it was just teenage angst... It didn't really matter to him; he had tried his best to appease them. He preferred to brood—he liked the calm, level-headed aura his new solitary gave him. This afternoon, however, had been the first time he'd come out of his shell, fighting with Potter as if it just yesterday he'd done it. Draco scowled. If he were to be honest, it wasn't really a surprise. Potter was the only one who had ever given Draco a real reason to react.

And it was inevitable, really. The moment Draco had walked into that Marriage Sex and Family class and spotted Potter, he had felt this strange, powerful urge to get back into the swing of things with him. It had hit him like_ lightning_. Whether it had to do with Draco's changing sides and everything that had gone along with that experience, or something else, there was just something about Potter that remained so perfectly unchanged. Draco didn't know why—he didn't even like the prat—but Potter was a sense of relief... and_ fighting_, at least, was something Draco knew how to do with him. He understood, sort of. It was uncomplicated, and at this point, Draco needed uncomplicated.

After a few more random twists and turns, Draco sighed, opting to finally make his way back to the Slytherin common room. It was rather late, after all. Once he stepped into the portrait hole, he was not surprised to find Pansy and Blaise waiting up for him on the couches, as they often did. Draco almost smiled. His friends—the ones that were still here—were fiercely loyal to him, as they always had been. At least he could be grateful for that.

"Draco," Blaise called out, glancing up and patting a seat on the couch for him to take. "Where have you been?"

Draco sat down. "Detention," he muttered. "With Potter."

"That should have been over ages ago. What took you so long?"

"I was just walking."

"Clearing your head again, I see," Pansy remarked. She sat down in between the two boys, tapping Draco's knee affectionately as she did.

"Yeah. It's just… this assignment with Potter." Draco sighed and rubbed his temples. "One day in and we're already snapping at each other's throats. Impossible, really. And what's more, we've gotten the ultimatum from Snape: get along or fail out. Can you believe it? I know I've got to_ try_, but Merlin, he is so bloody irritating."

Blaise chuckled. "He's quite a piece of work, isn't he? But so are you, so I suppose it's even."

Draco shoved Blaise away from him. "I reckon we are a good pair then," he said dryly. "Props to Dumbledore, Free Leader of the Wizarding World and part-time Matchmaker. Too bad we're going to end up killing each other, though."

Pansy laughed comfortably, lying back on the couch. "Well, I can't say I'm feeling completely sorry for you, Draco," she admitted. "Potter may be a prat, but he's not an _unattractive_ prat. If I were you, I'd take advantage of that arse."

Draco gasped, dismayed. "Pansy Parkinson!" he cried. "How could you even say such a thing?"

"What?" Pansy smirked. "It's true. If Potter wasn't so... Potter, I'd have a go at him. Wouldn't you, Blaise?"

Blaise grinned at Draco. "He's not horrible to look at, I'll admit. Anyway, he's got more than half the population at this school—not to mention the whole wizarding world—sending him marriage proposals. Aren't you glad you got to him first, Draco?"

Blaise and Pansy shared a laugh. Draco tried scowling, but he ended up losing that battle. He cracked a teensy smile and chuckled along with them. Not because he thought it was a funny situation (it _wasn't_), but because at least they were on his side, and that was as much as he could hope for. Most people weren't.

**~x~**

God damn it. Draco had been searching the library for Blaise for a few minutes now, but his friend seemed to be nowhere in sight. Blaise was _supposed_ to be working with Granger on their Marriage and Family assignment, but he had sent a message up to Draco asking him to 'save him from the Gryffindor bitch'. Draco had complied; it was late afternoon, and he had nothing better to do at this time... Plus, he knew just how aggravating Granger could be—the girl could probably force Dumbledore himself to lose it if she wanted to. Of course, Draco also felt it would be a rather ideal time for him and Blaise to sit underneath a tree outside to critise whoever and whatever happened to walk by... He was particularly eager to do it today, as he was feeling rather irritated and pent-up from his classes and all... A good old sneering session with Blaise should do the trick. It always did.

After a few more long minutes, Draco finally found Blaise and Granger sitting in one of the back booths scowling angrily at each other. It didn't look good—Blaise had been right to call for help. Granger's face was as blotched as a Weasley's and her hair seemed to frizz up more than usual. Draco had to wonder what Blaise had said or done to make the normally temperate Granger blow up like that... if his best friend's life hadn't been in succinct danger at the moment, Draco would've found it rather hilarious.

"Zabini, for the last time, I did not say that," Granger snapped.

Blaise pursed his lips. "You didn't say it, but it was implied," he retorted. "You insult me. Do you really think that you are superior to me just because you get higher marks on exams?"

Granger folded her arms across her chest. She was done playing games. "Uh, _yes_," she countered. "That is typically what high marks represent. Intelligence."

Blaise scowled. "You're a fucking elitist, Granger."

"_You_ are calling me an elitist?" Granger shrieked. "Oh, that's rich!"

"Fuck you!"

"What did I tell you about language, Zabini?"

Draco cleared his throat and stepped up to the table, hoping to ease his friend out of the tricky situation he had woven himself into. Granger looked as if she could kill. "I got your message," he said to Blaise. "Let's get out of here."

Blaise looked up at Draco, clearly grateful for the distraction. "Thank Merlin," he hissed. "I was just about to strangle her."

Granger snorted. "As if you could," she all but sneered.

Blaise merely ignored her. He began to tug Draco's arm until they were sufficiently far enough away from the table.

"I can't handle this," Blaise whispered, pulling Draco around a bookcase and glancing around. "She's insane. Worse than Pansy when you-know-what happens you-know-when, I swear. One more minute, and I really would have killed her. There is no question about it."

Draco cringed. "I know the feeling," he replied sympathetically. If Granger was bad, Potter was much worse—if not for their feats in the war, the Gryffindor trio were probably most notably famous for their righteous attitudes. Speaking of, Draco had to wonder how Pansy was faring with Weasley; it couldn't have been much better. And she, unlike Draco and Blaise, had less self-control.

"Let's just get out of here," Blaise said again.

Draco nodded. The tree. But just as the two boys were almost at the exit, Draco suddenly remembered that he needed a book for his Arithmancy assignment. Fuck—that was due the next morning. He felt slightly dumb that he had been lingering around the library for a while without thinking of it, but hey, he had other things on his mind: saving his best friend's arse, for one.

"Blaise, wait," Draco said, turning around. "I've got to get something. Hold on."

His friend nodded and trailed after him faithfully so that they could search for the text together; Draco headed back over towards the booth they were at before. The text he had happened to need was inconveniently in perfect range of Granger's study table, so they had to be quick—It would be a bad scene if Granger looked up and found Blaise standing right there: in perfect hexing range. Draco reached the section with the book and swiftly plucked it from the shelf, swirling around to leave before he got sidetracked by the wrathful Gryffindor girl himself.

But as he turned, he caught sight of said Gryffindor now sitting with her fellow Gryffindor best friend... namely, Potter. Draco frowned. He hadn't seen Potter arrive at the table, but he supposed that he and Blaise had been off to the side talking long enough for Potter to slip in—it wasn't as if it were a major feat or anything. Draco gazed at the duo curiously. Potter was leaning in to listen to something that Granger was saying, and after a bit, he laughed and shot her a brilliant smile that for some daft reason made Draco's stomach feel all flippy-floppy. What the fuck? Draco idly wondered if Potter had any romantic feelings for Granger, because Draco always teased Potter nowadays with it but he had never really pondered if it were in fact true. Well... It would make sense.

Of course, Draco had heard the rumours that something might have gone on between the two while they were gallivanting off last year (and where the Weasel had been during that time, Draco didn't know), and that was the reason why Potter and the Weaselette had not gotten back together this year. But then again, those were rumours. Draco tended not to listen to them, especially when they were about the Golden Trio and their trivial dilemmas. But... it seemed somehow more plausible now that he was staring directly at it. It didn't look like a rumour to him.

Draco watched now as Potter reached forward and grabbed Granger's arm, perhaps in a speech of passion, rambling at a rapid pace about something that was probably stupid and Potter-like. How fucking romantic—Draco's stomach lurched a little and he shook his head, trying to forget the thought. He didn't care about either Granger's or Potter's love life. It's not like he watched Potter anymore… not that he ever had, of course. Perhaps it was just old habit to notice.

Suddenly, Blaise tapped his shoulder, snapping him out of it. "Any day now, Draco," he muttered. "You've been standing there for ages. Have you got it?"

Draco looked away from Potter now and frowned in confusion. "Got what?"

"The book, dumbarse."

Oh, right, he'd almost forgotten that was what he'd been doing. "Yeah, yeah..." Draco gave his friend a look and held it up. "I have it right here."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "That's all you had to say."

Draco stole one last look at Potter and Granger, shaking his head and turning around. The affection was obvious, but why so much of it? Gryffindors were so strange.

**~x~**

The next day Draco arrived to Marriage Sex and Family with the utmost confidence—he and Potter had filled out their questionnaire with minimal bickering and had not outright fought in approximately twenty-four hours. It was bloody amazing. Shouldn't Draco get an award for that or something? ...Granted, he'd only seen the bespectacled prat for an hour at dinner and brief passing periods between classes, but he could still be proud of himself for it. It was, in fact, the longest the two had gone without some sort of unpleasantry between them. And by Merlin, Draco was going to revel in it, damn it.

Draco noticed Potter walking in at the same time as he; the latter surrounded by his friends and admirers looking quite uncomfortable, albeit still happy. Draco wondered for a moment why the boy always looked so tense around all of those people. Was Potter disconcerted by the constant attention? Draco had never noticed that... Wait. Potter had always _loved_ the attention and so it certainly wasn't the problem. Who said there had to be a problem? Besides, Draco didn't care either way. It was just that Potter's face looked kind of good like that. Relaxed.

_What?_ Draco shook his head again. These thoughts were getting annoying... It must've been a result of coming into this nonsensical class. Gods, he hated it. He blew a strand of blond hair out of his eyes and watched Potter make his way over to their bench through the sea of Potter-lovers. Git.

"Malfoy," Potter greeted stiffly, as he sat down. Draco noticed that he wasn't sitting on the very edge of the bench anymore. It was a start, at least.

Draco nodded in return. "Potter."

He didn't know what else to say without accidentally offending Potter and Potter seemed to feel the same way, so they both sat in silence until Snape had arrived at the front of the room, looking aggravated as usual.

"I expect that these essays are flawless, given the amount of time you've had to conduct them," Snape remarked, as the sound of parchment rustling became evident. "Let us hope that I am not mistaken. Today, we will be working on a partner survey. Afterwards, we will discuss the next part of your assignments." A set of parchments appeared in front of them again. "You may begin."

Draco looked down at his sheet. It was the same type of thing that he and Potter had gotten the day before, but it was suspiciously longer than the one they had received. He groaned. Honestly, Snape was making a mockery out of this and he knew it—obviously, the man had decided that if he had to endure hell for this class, so were the rest of them.

"I'll start," Potter piped up, causing Draco to look up at him. Potter gazed down at his parchment and frowned. "Er... Describe your ideal partner," he read, chewing on the end of his quill in a way that was utterly barbaric. Gods, how distracting.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Grace and _class, _of course, and hair that doesn't stick up in the most atrocious way." He sniffed. "In short, not _you_—if you didn't get the hint."

Potter gave him a withering look before writing that down with his chewed up quill. "You can joke all you want, Malfoy, it's your grade."

"Who said I was joking?" Draco muttered under his breath.

Potter hadn't heard him—or at least, pretended not to—and gestured at Draco to start writing. "For me, I start by looking for compatibility," Potter declared. "They've got to be passionate about something. They need to have opinions. I don't want them to be boring; I want them to make me work for it. Wit and unwavering loyalty is everything, you know. Creativity, quirk, laughter... Because, really, love is nothing but a game." He grinned, and Draco noticed that his teeth were very straight and white. He tried not to stare so much.

"You are such a Gryffindor," Draco muttered. He wrote down the response and scowled at it for good measure.

Potter shot him another look, but didn't comment further. "What do you want to do after you graduate?" he asked.

Draco pretended to think for a moment. "Sit on my arse, perhaps?" he suggested. "Honestly, I haven't really thought about it."

In truth, Draco had thought about it—a lot. He knew that he wanted to be an Auror; to help rid the world of horrible people and to right the wrongs he'd done. He'd dreamed about it ever since he'd decided to switch sides... But of course, that was a far-fetched dream, even for him. The Wizarding World would never accept him, a former Death Eater, to represent them and fight off their evils, no matter how much training he received. Besides, there were many people that still thought that _he_ was evil. Including Potter, probably. There was no point in arguing against it.

Despite Draco's shallow answer, Potter looked pensive. "Me neither, I suppose," he mused. "Though, I think I want to try being a Healer or something. That would be cool."

Potter's response surprised Draco. "Really?" he asked. "I'd have thought you would want to be a professional Quidditch player or an Auror, or something obnoxious like that."

Potter pursed his lips in a way that reminded Draco of the uncomfortable look that Potter had on before around his followers. "Yeah, I guess that's what most people would pin me down to be," he said slowly. "But that's what _they_ want, not what I want. Maybe I want to be an Auror now, maybe I want to be a Healer later. Maybe I don't want to be anything. So what? Sometimes people forget that I'm actually a living, breathing human being and not just some mythical legend."

Draco searched his face. He had fancied believing that Potter was an open book for the whole world to read, with all the celebrity that the Gryffindor was used to receiving, but it didn't seem to be the case as of now. Potter was somewhat like a vault full of mysteries... It made Draco sort of curious. "You know, you surprise me sometimes, Potter," he remarked.

Potter shrugged. "I live to do just that, Malfoy."

They continued in that way for the rest of the questionnaire, treading carefully along to ensure that no tempers flared up. Draco couldn't say that he was having a bad time—in fact, he might have laughed once or twice (though it had been because Potter had confessed that he had once been stung by a bug and cried for ten minutes straight; Draco had guffawed loudly, Potter had smacked the side of his head). All in all, Draco couldn't help but feel sort of _optimistic_. About what, he didn't know, but it was a nice, new feeling... Especially when it came to Potter.

By the end of class, Snape had appeared at the front of the room again, still seemingly agitated. "So far I presume that you have all learned each other's information to the point of familiarity." He appeared even more annoyed at this. "But you have not been officially 'married' yet. We will conduct a short ceremony for everybody next class, but as of right now you are all, in terms... dating."

_Oh, fantastic._

"I reckon we're getting married in the morning, Potter," Draco whispered to the other boy on his side.

Potter just snorted softly.

"Following that, the next part of your assignment will be the 'moving in' aspect of marriage life," Snape continued. "One of you will stay in the other's House dorm for the next month. Of course, you will be separated into girls' and boys' dormitories, but you will get the experience of 'living together as a couple' for the rest of the month. I will be randomising the names again right now. Listen closely for your assignment."

Draco bit his lip. Really? He'd have to _live_ with Potter now? Of course, it was one thing to learn to get along during classes and mealtimes, but during lounging evenings? Early mornings? Week-ends? This was obviously just another set-up for disaster. And right when he and Potter had started to act a bit civil towards each other, too! Awful timing. Still... _Please don't let me be in Gryffindor, _Draco prayed silently. When he glanced over, Potter was fidgeting nervously in his seat.

Snape cleared his throat. "Miss Granger and Mr. Zabini, Slytherin. Mr. Weasley and Miss Parkinson, Gryffindor. Mr. Longbottom and Miss Lovegood, Ravenclaw. Miss Weasley and Mr. Nott, Slytherin. Mr. Thomas and Mr. Finnigan, Gryffindor. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter…"

_Oh for the love of—_

"Slytherin."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, guys. They are very helpful!**

Chapter 5

Draco almost cheered aloud. Yes! Take that, Potter! Getting placed in Slytherin felt like the only triumph Draco could have ever received in this class. And even if he did have to spend a whole month in the company of his arch nemesis, at least he'd be in familiar territory. That was something, wasn't it? Draco could probably make do with that. At least now he wouldn't have to threaten to sue.

"Fuck," Potter muttered beside him. He was rubbing his forehead and cursing under his breath, with an expression as if hell had just frozen over ten times. Oh, poor, sad Potter.

Draco smirked. "Lighten up, Potter," he teased. "Just think, you'll never be _bored_ with us around. And don't be surprised tomorrow morning if you find yourself submerged underwater."

Potter looked up and glared at Draco. Draco fought the urge to laugh in his face. Potter didn't say anything further, choosing to turn and give the Weasel a desperate, pleading look. Gods, this was fabulous—Draco could already picture all of the pranks he could play on the gullible prat while in Slytherin... Oh, the possibilities! This might even be a little bit entertaining.

Potter spent the rest of class awkwardly angled away from Draco, and when the bell rang, had practically dashed from the bench to whisper furiously with Granger and the Weasel. Draco watched them. The redhead had one hand on Potter's shoulder and the other waving around in the air for emphasis, while Granger's arm was laced through Potter's other side. Potter himself looked as if he was going to be sick. Draco wrinkled his nose. It really wasn't that big of a deal; they were obviously being overdramatic about it... Although, Draco supposed he'd be reacting the same way if he were placed in Gryffindor. Maybe even a tad _more_ dramatic. But then again, he was a Slytherin and Slytherins were known for their drama. Gryffindor drama was different.

Draco was staring at the Gryffindor trio so intently, he had hardly noticed that Pansy and Blaise caught up with him and were now speaking. He blinked and turned towards them.

"It's not even fair," Pansy pouted. "I have to live with the Gryffindorks while you guys stay in Slytherin. It's absolutely inhumane! I want to speak with whomever made these decisions."

Blaise snorted. "You're overreacting."

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "Am I?" she asked. "Would you like to stay with Weasley and the rest of the Gryffindor drones instead? I could take your place with Granger."

Blaise grimaced. "Good point."

Draco sighed. However unfair it was that Pansy had to stay in Gryffindor, he wasn't too worried for her. She could hold her own, especially against Weasley, and who knows? She might even be able to corrupt him a bit; Weasley was certainly capable. Draco almost smiled at the thought. Potter's gang would go mental over that. And Draco loved when they went mental.

"Weasley is such an oaf," Pansy complained now.

Blaise shrugged. "Of course he is. But think of all the horrible pranks you could pull on him because of it. Do you still have that book I gave you last Christmas? How would Weasley feel about flobberworms in his bed the first night? And you can't forget about page 53. Page 53 is my favourite."

"You're positively horrible, Blaise," Pansy remarked, her pout now turning into a grin. "I_ love_ it."

Draco was hardly listening to their banter after that, finding it far more interesting to watch the Golden Trio whisper to each other again. The Weasel's grip was still on Potter's shoulder and Potter was holding Granger's hand now. They were all still whispering as if it were the End of the World. Draco narrowed his eyes at this. Crybabies. It's not like they were being sent off to their deaths—Draco snorted inwardly, thinking of Pansy's little grin and Blaise's book. Actually, he supposed they might as well be a little scared... Especially Weasley.

**~x~**

After classes had ended, all of the Eighth years took the time to move belongings to their new assignments—there was a flurry of activity everywhere that Draco turned. He sat on his bed and watched as boys went in and out of the room. Of course, Draco had had a fleeting thought to go assist Potter with his stuff, but he had ultimately decided against it... Just because they weren't fighting anymore didn't mean Draco had to be all nice. Besides, Potter was a big boy, he didn't need any help. Nevertheless, Draco watched Potter huff and puff as he carried his rather large trunk into the room and almost collapsed on the floor next to Draco's bed. Draco raised an eyebrow at him. Merlin, Potter was out of shape... Except he wasn't, because he still played Quidditch.

"You could help out a little, Malfoy," Potter remarked, looking up at him and sucking in his pink cheeks to take a large breath. Draco just stared at him. "Er, Malfoy?" Potter looked irritated now. "Fine. I'll do it myself. Thanks so much, _mate_." He dragged the trunk to the bed next to Draco's and kicked it for good measure.

Draco snapped out of it. "Honestly, Potter. I'm not a very _helpful_ person. Get used to it." He grinned now. "That had been Goyle's bed, by the way."

Goyle had been assigned to live in Hufflepuff, of all places, with his partner that Draco did not care about enough to recall. It wasn't any of Draco's business. Besides, Crabbe and Goyle had not been quite so close to him this year. It was a little odd, but Draco hadn't minded; he didn't need bodyguards. He could take care of himself. They weren't much company anyhow.

Potter looked put off for a moment and glanced around to look for another bed, but of course, they were all taken. He sighed and sat on the bed begrudgingly. "Well, who else lives in here now?" he asked.

Draco glanced around. "Blaise. Theo. Me. You. I think that's it."

"But there are five beds."

"Yeah, what of it?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "We'll use that bed for extracurricular activities."

Potter gave him a slightly incredulous look.

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust and glared at the other boy. "Gods, not you and I, Potter," he drawled. "Honestly. What I meant was... sometimes us blokes get urges. And when we get urges, we need to fulfill them. It's only natural."

Potter was still looking at him with those wide green eyes.

Draco sighed. "Merlin, you're impossible," he remarked. "I guess it's just a Slytherin thing. Of course you Gryffindors won't have sex anywhere near your dorm mates. Although, I have to wonder where you do..." He grinned lecherously, making Potter's eyes get even bigger. Draco wanted to burst out laughing. This was just _too_ easy.

Potter was still sitting there with a shocked expression when Blaise walked into the room. At the sight, Blaise smirked too. "Draco, what did you say to the poor boy hero?" he asked. "Did you tell him about the soap in the washroom?"

Potter's eyes flicked over to Blaise now, looking worried. "What's wrong with the soap?"

Draco snorted. "Let him figure that out for himself," he quipped. "Actually, I just told him about The Extra Bed. Apparently Potter is too good for sex in such lowly form."

Potter glared at him. "I am not!"

"I know, you think that I'm beneath you," Draco teased. "Not literally, of course. Obviously, I'd be on top."

Potter was blushing now. Draco was used to the look, but it had never appeared so bright in front of him. Wow. Potter was so _vibrant_. It was almost strangely compelling, like Draco needed to reach out and touch. He swallowed hard. Uh... Never mind. Potter was glowering at him simultaneously.

"I'm no bottom, Malfoy," he growled.

"Well, neither am I," Draco insisted quickly, and his gaze met Potter's in an unspoken challenge. It was hard to fathom anything else at such a time—Draco was most surprised by the colour of Potter's eyes. Had they always been so green? Potter's glasses were usually in the way, but now, the lenses only seemed to amplify the colour. Draco looked away first, slightly dazzled and thoroughly annoyed. Damn Potter for always winning. One day Draco would get him for that.

"Well," said Blaise, looking from Potter to Draco with an amused expression. "Welcome to Slytherin, Potter."

Draco just stared at his lap.

**~x~**

It was after dinner when Potter and Granger reluctantly parted ways with the Weasel and came to the Slytherin common room—upon arrival, the two stuck together and sat on one of the loveseat couches, each looking nervous to various degrees by the surroundings. Honestly, Gryffindors. It wasn't as if all of the Slytherins were going to kill them right then and there... At least, not today, and not under Draco's orders. Draco just raised his eyebrows and sat in his favourite armchair across from the fireplace. It was rather strange being in Slytherin with all of these non-Slytherins surrounding him, and he didn't particularly enjoy it, but he supposed that he'd have to get used to the feeling. For now. Honestly, Draco couldn't wait until the month was up and Potter and the rest of the intruders would go back to their own Houses as they rightfully should.

It was almost half an hour later when everybody had seemed to have made their ways back to the common room, and Draco had already made himself quite comfortable, lounging around chatting with Blaise about this and that. It wasn't... too bad. At this point, Draco snuck another glance over at Potter and Granger again; they both seemed to have loosened up a bit. Potter's arm was slung across the back of the seat, barely touching Granger's hair, and he was whispering in her ear as she nodded and smiled every once in awhile at whatever rubbish he was saying. For some reason, Draco frowned. Why did Granger have to be placed in Slytherin too? Potter spent too much time with her as it was. And even if Draco didn't like the stupid git at all, he was still _Draco's _partner, and not Granger's, and Potter shouldn't be allowed to cohort with her whenever he pleased. It didn't matter that they were friends—and anyway, Potter shouldn't have gotten a friend in Slytherin at all. It wasn't fair.

Draco felt a pang of unwanted jealousy in his chest. He hated the feeling; it was constantly there around Potter. Well... It wasn't for nothing. Granger clearly made Potter happy. And Draco didn't fancy Potter's happiness. Yes. None for Potter. Ha ha.

"Draco? Draco?" Blaise asked, waving a hand in front of his face. "Hey, arsehole. I'm talking to you." He was looking at Draco with a funny expression.

Draco realised that he'd been staring at the two Gryffindors for quite a while. He looked at Blaise and frowned. "Sorry?"

The other boy looked suspicious. "What's with the sour expression?" he asked, before following the direction of Draco's sight and raising his brows. "Oh, I see." He smirked. Draco noticed a hint of understanding in Blaise's voice and scowled.

"You see what?" Draco grumbled irritably, glancing over at the giggling pair one more time. _Hideous bint, _he thought, grinding his teeth as Granger leaned her head against Potter's shoulder.

"Nothing, nothing." Blaise just grinned knowingly at him.

Draco scowled again. He would ignore Potter from now on.

But that night as Draco was getting ready to sleep, he couldn't help but notice Potter already sitting on his bed wearing some tattered oversized bottoms and a flimsy white t-shirt—because well, honestly, it was just too revolting to miss. Draco wrinkled his nose. Of course, even Potter's nightwear _would_ be unfashionable... Draco made a mental note to lend Potter something decent. Clearly, it wouldn't be helping Potter as much as it would be helping himself from looking at those stupid clothes any longer. Draco wandered over to the washroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair, idly noticing that his hair was getting long and decided he would have to cut it. He trimmed it neatly with a quick spell so that it just barely hung over his eyes. There.

When Draco walked back into the room Potter was standing over near Nott's bed, talking to the other boy about something. Blaise, on the other hand, was sitting on his own bed—he was obviously watching the pair as well. Draco frowned and tried to catch the darker boy's eye, but Blaise only smirked, as if he knew Draco was looking at him, and called out across the room.

"Oi, Potter!" he said. "Come here, will you?"

Potter looked suspicious for a moment, but he shrugged and went to sit on Blaise's bed with him. "Do you need something, Zabini?" he asked.

Blaise gave him a winning smile. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm willing to be completely civil with you," he said. "We're all going to have to live together for a month and I'd prefer it if our petty House rivalry stays to a minimum. I'd say that you would too, seeing as you are obviously outnumbered here." Blaise gestured around the room. "And we're willing to give it shot, right, lads?"

Nott was nodding, so Draco did too. Though he didn't know why on earth he was doing that. He _wanted_ to fight with Potter, didn't he?

Potter was quiet for a while, almost expressionless. But after a moment, he beamed. "Yeah, I agree," he said. "Thanks, Zabini. That's real nice of you." Potter directed his smile tentatively at the other dark-haired boy, and Blaise grinned back. Draco could tell that it was genuine.

"Brilliant! Night, Potter. Draco, Nott," Blaise chirped, before throwing his covers over himself and scooting Potter away. Potter chuckled and got up.

Draco mumbled something back, still processing that conversation. No pranks? At all? Well, this was extremely disappointing—what was he going to do with his spare time? Now Potter jumped into bed too, pulling off his ratty t-shirt to reveal surprisingly tanned, toned skin, and Draco forgot his disappointment. Holy hell. Holy mother of Merlin! When the fuck did _that_ happen? Draco's mouth fell open as he stared. Well, now he wouldn't have to lend Potter bedclothes... because apparently, Potter didn't wear _any_. Draco couldn't keep his own face still. Was his eye twitching? Fuck it, he didn't care. For Merlin's sake, Potter—who knew that the whingy Gryffindor had an actual body under all of those shapeless clothes?

"Night, Zabini, Nott... Malfoy." The sound of Potter's voice snapped him out of his shock, and Draco just nodded again, blushing slightly. Whoa.

**~x~**

As soon as Marriage Sex and Family had started the next day, Snape had made everybody line up with their partners in front of a gaudy arch—complete with cheap white flowers and a picket fence poking out of the frame for their marriage ceremonies. Draco frowned in distaste. Fake marriage or not, he was rather annoyed with the tackiness of it all; certainly they could've spent more time and effort on it. When he was getting married for real, Draco wouldn't stand for anything less than perfectly romantic... Not that he wanted this to be romantic, of course. Getting married to Potter was something that he hoped he would never have to do again, let alone involve any romance. Still, the arch was a bit undignified, even for a classroom.

Snape seemed more hostile than usual today—obviously due to the fact that he had to marry off countless pairs of unwanted students of an unwanted class that he unwillingly had to teach. Of course, when it was put that way, Draco feel a little sorry for the man; not sorry enough to excuse him for the terrible decorations, but still. It was rather sad. Snape's mouth twisted as he spoke. "All right, let's get this over with, children," he drawled. "First up…"

Draco stopped listening then; carefully appearing cool and aloof with this ritual as if he got fake-married all the time. Of course, it was only customary of him to act a certain way, mainly to keep the peace in the presence of his Housemates, but also for his own bloody reputation. To be completely honest, however, Draco was a bit unnerved by the whole thing. There was something so real and concrete about the aspect of marriage and the bond that it was supposed to create between two people. Wasn't that why it was regarded as such a sacred ceremony? Draco knew that it was all pretend, but he couldn't help feeling that the relationship between himself and Potter would never be the same again, no matter how horrible they were to one another. And that was just... well, it was just_ frightening_.

"Potter, Malfoy."

The sound of their names being called snapped Draco back to reality, and he suddenly found himself following Potter up to the arch. Once at the platform, Draco stepped up and faced Potter—Oh gods! Draco flinched a bit. The Gryffindor was standing much too close for Draco's liking, and it posed the problem of the much-too-green eyes thing; Draco tried to look anywhere but Potter's face, but it was virtually impossible. He stood there, uncomfortable. This was probably the worst form of humiliation there was, having to marry his archenemy in front his entire Year on this tiny little platform. Could it get any worse? Suddenly, Draco felt his clothing shift and he looked down to see that he was wearing formal robes. _Formal robes_! Of course though, it really could get worse. He chanced a peek at Potter and saw that he was wearing the same ensemble, cheeks flushed as if he were uncomfortable with it as well. At least Draco knew that he wasn't alone.

"Join hands," muttered Snape stiffly.

Before Draco could grumble or protest, Potter had reached out and gently taken Draco's hands in his. Potter's hands were really warm; not unpleasantly so, but enough to make Draco realise how ice cold his own were. They were also shaking... or perhaps that was Potter's? Draco looked up now, bravely meeting the other boy's eyes for a brief moment. Merlin, they really were green. The sort of green that was just so pure and honest. How did that even exist?

"Harry James Potter," Snape bellowed. "Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

The words were practically venom. Draco would've laughed if it hadn't been _him_ Snape had been referring Potter to.

"I do," Potter said quietly. His gaze had not left Draco's face.

Snape pursed his lips before speaking. "And do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

Draco continued to stare straight into Potter's eyes, which held some kind of unreadable expression now. This was it. The fine line between being enemies and… whatever it was they were now was being crossed. Did he want to? Draco took a deep breath. Well, no matter what, he really didn't have a choice.

"I... do."

There was a heavy silence.

Snape sighed, seemingly already done with the prospect. "I now pronounce you husband and husband," he sneered. "You may kiss the groom."

**Author's Note: DUN**

**DUN**

**DUUUUUUN!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I love reading your reactions. Thank you!**

Chapter 6

Draco jerked back from Potter in surprise. _Kiss_? Nobody had said anything about kissing! Wasn't this harassment? Was this even allowed? Potter was looking at him strangely and Draco was sure he had a comical expression of panic painted his face, but he didn't care. This was mental! Even Snape had his eyebrows raised in supposed boredom.

"Any day now, boys," Snape urged vacantly.

Now Potter was leaning in and oh _gods_ fucking hell what was Draco supposed to do what if he wasn't a good kisser what then would Potter laugh at him in front of all of these people what if—

Draco's heart almost stopped as Potter's lips brushed his… _cheek._

Oh.

They both jumped off the platform and walked swiftly back to their bench, Draco leading the way. He could feel his face burning red as he tried to avoid Potter's stare. Shit. He felt absolutely ridiculous for the whole thing and tried not to think about how for a split second, he'd actually… thought— Draco felt his face heat up some more. No. Just block it out. He focused on watching the other couples instead, willing his fair complexion to turn back to its normal shade. Now Blaise and Granger were up and he kissed her on the cheek too (with an expression of slight disdain) before hopping off the platform and back to their seats. As did the next couple, and the next one, and the next one.

Well. So maybe Draco should have been paying more attention before, because then he would've known not to react as he did to the "you may kiss the groom" statement. Draco felt like an idiot, but at least nobody else could tell what his embarrassment was really about. Well, Potter might've, but when did Draco ever actually care what Potter thought of him? Ha. Even he had to snort at himself for that one.

Soon enough, the final couple was married and Snape stepped back from the platform. He looked weary and annoyed. "You are all now officially married," he drawled. "Congratulations."

Before anyone could even move, Snape had swept out of the room, robes billowing as he went. All of the students looked around at each other; some of them shrugged. It might as well be a dismissal—nobody ever really knew with Snape. Students began to crowd around the exit, and most headed down to their own common rooms until it was dinnertime. Draco was one of them.

As soon as he was safely away from other people, Draco plopped into his armchair and stared moodily at the fire for some time. What was this stupid twinge in his chest? The annoying one that had been there ever since he'd gotten off that platform with the lingering feeling of Potter's lips on his cheek...? Draco shivered. He had thought that it would go away, that it was just embarrassment, but... honestly, it hadn't. But he knew that he shouldn't be thinking these things, especially not about Potter. Potter was... Potter. And sure, maybe Draco wouldn't have minded kissing the prat, but it didn't mean anything. Did it? The image of Potter whipping off his shirt made Draco's insides squirm again. Damn. Draco really needed to get laid or something.

Suddenly, the sound of two bodies slamming into the couch next to Draco snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up, shocked. Nott and the Weaselette (of all people!) were on top of each other, snogging ferociously. Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. What the fuck? Ew.

"Do you mind?" he snarled.

They both looked up at him, as if it surprised them that he was there. Hello, he had been here ages before them!

"What?" Nott asked. "We're in the honeymoon phase, Draco. Let us have a little fun. Besides..." Nott looked a little mischievous. "Shouldn't you be getting_ your_ honeymoon started with your poncy little husband?"

Weasley frowned. "Hey, don't call Harry a ponce," she clucked. "He's my friend."

Nott looked properly chagrinned. "Sorry, babe."

With that, they resumed to their previous activities and Draco didn't know whether to balk or vomit. He refused to leave—he was here first, damn it!—but now he was feeling rather uncomfortable with himself. Honestly, couldn't they find somewhere more private? And the nerve of Nott, implying that Draco should get it on with Potter... Never mind that Draco had been thinking it first, it was still wrong! Blaise came into the room then, took one look at Draco and the couple and smirked.

"Hey, Draco, let's go to the dorms," Blaise called out, winking at him. Draco happily obliged, trying not to run after him, and the two boys headed to their room. "So where's Potter?" Blaise asked nonchalantly. "Haven't seen him since class." He sat down on his bed. Draco shut the door and sat down next to him.

Draco shrugged. "Probably visiting Gryffindor," he said. "How should I know, anyways? I'm not his damned keeper."

Blaise smiled that knowing smile again. "No, I suppose you're not."

Draco narrowed his eyes at his friend, and a silent battle ensued between them. Blaise was trying to be subtle, but he was hopelessly horrible at it. They both knew it. "What is it you want to talk about, Blaise?" Draco asked tiredly, after a few moments.

"This is a fun project, isn't it? Kissing Gryffindors and whatnot."

Draco sighed. "You didn't look like you had fun kissing Granger," he pointed out.

Blaise raised his brows. "I would say the same for you about Potter, but it sure didn't seem that way earlier. You looked like you wanted it."

"What?" Draco spluttered. "I didn't want to_ kiss_ him! Why would you think that?"

Blaise grinned again. "I've read some of those questionnaires you filled out with Potter," he confessed. "They're pretty detailed." He jerked his thumb over towards Draco's trunk. "I particularly loved Potter's answers about relationships. Didn't you, Draco?"

Draco pursed his lips. Sure, some of Potter's answers had been sickeningly sentimental, but why would that reflect back on Draco? It wouldn't. All he'd done was write down the bloody responses. Besides, Blaise had no right to be rifling through his things. "That was none of your business, Blaise," Draco sneered. "And you should really focus on your own marriage, thanks."

"Don't you love being married?" Blaise smirked. "Now you can fuck with Potter whenever you want and you don't even need excuses to anymore."

Draco flushed angrily. "I have no idea what you're blabbing on about!" he shouted.

"I'm just saying. It's fine if you fancy him. He probably fancies you, too, in a weird, Gryffindor kind of way."

"What the fuck?" Draco cried. "I don't bloody fancy _Potter_!"

Somehow, Blaise managed to look both chagrinned and superior at the same time. "Really?" he asked. "Are you sure that you wouldn't want to get at that, at least once? I mean, it's completely understandable—"

"I swear, Zabini, if you utter one more word about Potter, I will rip your lungs out with my bare hands."

Blaise pouted a bit. "Fine. Arsehole."

During dinner, Draco sulked into his food, Blaise's words still echoing in his brain. Why would Blaise even suggest something like that? Draco hadn't made any advances at Potter, and he was certain that he would've noticed if the oaf had tried something on him. Draco sighed and picked at his plate. But was it possible that Potter fancied him, even a little bit? Would it really be that impossible? Would Draco mind it? He stole a glance at the boy sitting next to him, who was busy inhaling mountains of food as if he hadn't been fed in decades. First of all, ew.

Potter looked up at him. "What?" he managed, his mouth still full with who-knows-what. Draco wrinkled his nose. Potter definitely did not fancy Draco, and now Draco's appetite was completely gone, curse that bespectacled barbarian. Blaise was off his rocker.

**~x~**

The next day, Draco went through his classes without really paying any attention in them. His mind was full of other things—last night, for example. To prove a point to Blaise, Draco had deliberately looked away from Potter before bed to avoid having to watch the shirtless Potter show, but the gesture only seemed to fuel Blaise's fire further and the boy had smirked at him. Of course, Draco had scowled back, and Blaise winked—before walking over to have a chat with Potter. And that was the strangest thing: Potter and Blaise had been getting on really well since the House truce: Draco had seen them exchanging homework and laughing in the common room earlier. He hadn't known that Blaise was actually planning to go through with the be-nice-to-Potter ploy, but apparently, he was... At least Potter seemed relieved about the tentative friendship forming. And fortunately for Draco, it meant that Potter got to spend less time with his band of Gryffindors; namely, Granger and Weasley.

And now Draco was heading into Marriage Sex and Family, quite drained from a day full of jumbled thoughts. When he arrived inside, he immediately noticed Potter and his friends sitting on their bench and laughing about some stupid Gryffindor joke that wasn't actually funny. Draco just sighed and sat down at the other end. Honestly, he wished class would just be over already, and it hadn't even started. He wanted to go back to bed.

"Sit down."

Snape had entered the room with a large cabinet levitating behind him as he walked. Students scrambled to get into their seats before he got to the front of the room. "We have our next assignment," Snape drawled, setting the cabinet down carefully next to him before facing the class. "This will be long term and it will go on for the rest of the year. It shall be different depending on each pair. This cabinet has the magical ability to sense the aura of a partnership and will therefore choose the best possible assignment meant for the participants. We will have other assignments during the year, mind you, but this one will be an ongoing final. Now if you will all line up here in front of me, we shall begin."

Potter stood up with Draco and they took a place in line behind Nott and Weasley. Draco tried not to fidget too much; he didn't want Potter to think he was nervous again.

Potter cleared his throat. "So... what do you think the cabinet will give us?" he asked.

Potter was attempting small talk with him. Draco almost snorted at the prospect. How cute.

"I don't know," he replied.

"I reckon it'll be something terrible." Potter ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip. "You know how they hate us."

Draco had to agree. Fortune hadn't seemed to be on either Draco's or Potter's side lately. It was rather annoying.

Potter nudged him. "Er... and we have that after class question stuff to do today, right?"

Merlin, Potter was relentless. Draco sighed.

"As you have so articulately put it, yes, Potter. We do."

Finally, Potter had stopped trying, so Draco was free to watch what was going on at the cabinet (he had learned his lesson from last time to pay attention). Blaise and Granger were up now, each receiving a slip of paper and both looked relieved by it—Blaise even appeared a bit excited. Well, that was comforting. Sort of. Draco watched Longbottom and the weird blonde girl go up next to receive some distorted looking plant. Gross. Draco shook his head. After them, the Weasel and Pansy got a slip of paper, like Blaise and Granger had, but they both looked equally disgusted instead. Nott and Weaselette got a giant, dusty book, and even though Draco knew that Nott didn't enjoy reading, the boy had appeared as if Christmas had come early this year. Curious. Finally, it was their turn.

"Potter, Malfoy. Go on, reach in," Snape said, looking bored.

Draco and Potter looked at each other and shrugged, each putting an arm into one of the cabinet's drawers. Together, they pulled out a baby doll. Oh Merlin, _no_. Potter's expression matched Draco's thoughts. They both looked at Snape in question, and the professor's mouth was twisted into a sort of grimace that was clearly hiding a smile. Another bad sign.

"Clearly, you two desperately need to work on your team building skills. You will be taking care of a baby together," Snape announced. He still looked as if he was about to burst out cackling. The boys looked at each other in complete disbelief. Team building? Baby? Snape thought it was _funny?_

"The doll is enchanted to have the needs and wants of an actual child," Snape continued. "It is obviously not a real human being, but it is charmed to act like one. Your assignment is to merely keep the baby alive—together. Fail to do so and you will fail the course." Snape's smile was now evil. "Happy parenting."

Draco and Potter walked back to their seats, defeated, and people giggled and pointed at the baby doll cradled in Potter's arms. When they passed Blaise, the wanker had the nerve to whisper at them, "congratulations, it's a girl!", and motion to the little pink blanket and matching bow on the doll with a smirk. Draco flipped him the bird, and he and Potter took their bench. He tried not to look at either Potter or the doll for the rest of class.

**~x~**

That night, Draco walked into the classroom where he would meet Potter for questioning a little early, still in disbelief of what their assignment was. It was completely ridiculous—two teenagers taking care of a baby doll? How moronic was that? And two teenage boys, nonetheless. It was just unnatural. Draco typically loathed children; they were so needy and whingy and brutally truthful and Draco did not need this bullshit. Of course, he had never really had high hopes for this relationship with Potter, but add a baby into the mix, and it seemed near impossible. Yet, he couldn't do anything about it if he didn't want to fail out and forfeit his own right to graduate. Draco grit his teeth. Fucking Dumbledore. Before Draco could get too worked up about it, however, Potter had appeared in the doorway with the baby doll on his arm. All Draco did was roll his eyes at it.

"Let's get started," Potter said, upon coming in further. He adjusted the doll in his arms and sat down.

"Joy," Draco muttered, taking his seat as well. They both shuffled through parchments and mumbled for a while before Draco began the survey. "What is your life goal, Potter?"

Potter took a moment to think. "Uh, I don't know," he said. "I want to live a normal life, I guess. Graduate school, get a job, start a family. Nothing spectacular."

Draco understood that. After years of living such an erratic lifestyle, Potter had the right to want a little normalcy. "I'd have to agree with you on that," he remarked. "Settle down and live a quiet life. That sounds perfect."

Potter raised his eyebrows at Draco. "Really? I thought you'd want to be at the top of the wizarding society and all that."

Draco grimaced. "No, my father would have wanted me to do that, but it's not what I want."

"Don't you want to be like your father? Er, I mean, well you know, I _didn't_ mean—" Potter had apparently realised what he'd said and was now babbling, shooting nervous looks at Draco in apology for his blunder. Draco didn't mind, he knew his father deserved to be in prison. Besides, Potter looked pretty damned sorry for what he said. And for some reason, Draco believed him.

"I'm not my father," he said, with a tone of finality that surprised them both. Or at least, it did Draco.

"I know that now," Potter remarked quietly, and it seemed that he really did. His eyes shone with that pureness again, baring it all in a way that only a Gryffindor could pull off. Merlin. Draco looked away.

The sudden cry of the baby doll broke their intense silence, and Potter hurriedly began to bounce it up and down in his arms, shushing. Draco was somewhat amused by it. He never would have thought that he would see the sight he was seeing right now; a gentle Potter cradling a baby doll and cooing like the thing was actually _real_. Draco bit his lip. It was a little endearing, in fact. He suddenly wished he knew how it felt like to be held like that. Had his parents ever done that? He didn't think so.

Potter was still bouncing the baby doll as he motioned to his book bag with his other arm. "Hand me that, will you?" he asked. Draco did so without complaint, and Potter pulled out a tiny bottle and put it to the doll's lips. It quieted right away. Potter sat back in satisfaction, green eyes watching the child intently.

"You got her a bottle?" Draco asked, incredulous. Seemed like someone was taking it seriously.

Potter blushed a little. "Hermione made it for her," he confessed. "I haven't got the first clue about parenting."

"Really? You seem like a natural," Draco mused, and then was quiet for a moment. "What are we going to name her?"

Potter looked up. "I don't know. What do you want to call her?" he asked.

Draco blurted it out before he could stop himself. "Rebecca."

"That's a pretty name." Potter smoothed his fingers over the doll's little blonde curls and his mouth curved up into a soft smile. "Rebecca."

Draco felt a mix between charmed and a bit silly, but he didn't particularly mind it. It was a strange feeling. New. Draco had never really seen this side of Potter before, and Draco had thought that he'd seen it all. "You'll make a great father one day," he blurted out, before he could stop and think about it.

Potter grinned, still gazing down at the doll with an enigmatic expression. "For once, Malfoy, I hope you're right," he said. "I really do."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Hi guys, thank you thank you thank you a billion times for reviewing and sticking around! We're back to Harry's POV. **

Chapter 7

It was Malfoy's turn to change Rebecca-doll's diaper. So why was Harry always stuck with the job?

"Seriously? But you just—aw, no." Harry picked up the doll and held her away from him, wrinkling his nose. She was a responsive little thing, that was for certain. Sure enough, the baby began wailing and her cries bounced off the walls of their small dorm room. Damn it.

"Really, Potter?" Malfoy's voice echoed from down the hallway. The git popped his head into the room and grinned. "Still making small children cry?"

Harry made a face at him. "Isn't that your job, Malfoy? And I reckon this is, too." He shoved the doll into Malfoy's arms as the boy walked in. "Honestly, when was the last time you changed her nappies? I'd really like to see you try."

Malfoy's nose wrinkled daintily as he held the doll at arm's length, looking as if he were afraid to hold her, let alone change her diaper. This only added to Harry's careful Malfoy-observation, of which he'd discovered rather early on, that the Slytherin obviously did not have the magic touch when it came to small children. It had been slightly comical at first, but now it was just a burden. Harry couldn't be expected to do all of the work!

"What did I do to deserve this?" Malfoy muttered, struggling with the diaper's clasp. All right, it was still kind of comical to watch. Plus, he was doing it completely wrong.

It was Harry's turn to grin. "The list goes on forever."

Malfoy glared at him. "Shut the hell up, Potter."

Harry gasped in mock horror and covered the doll's tiny ears. "Language, Malfoy!" he scolded.

The blond just rolled his eyes. "I'll say whatever the fuck I want to say. How do you get this bloody thing off anyway?"

Harry just laughed. Earlier that evening, everyone had crowded around them wanting to see the doll. It was odd; Harry had expected his classmates to scoff at the idea of a fake baby, but a lot of people had acted as if she were real, congratulating them and asking to hold her. Harry found the whole thing strangely endearing, but he knew that Malfoy had thought that it was absurd judging by the faint expression on his face. The Slytherin had looked especially irked when Ron had laughed and slapped a hand on Harry's shoulder in congratulations and Hermione had held Rebecca, exclaiming that they were "so lucky, she wished she could be the mother!"—of course, Malfoy's face had twisted even more in disgust at that. Harry shook his head. Girls were always attracted to cute things; it was a fact of life. Malfoy had a thing or two to learn.

Harry let Malfoy struggle for a few more minutes before taking the doll (Malfoy had started to scream at the thing) and changing her himself—the Slytherin obviously hadn't figured out the clasp properly and it was stuck to the doll's leg. After another initial fuss, Malfoy left Harry's side to fix the makeshift cradle that Harry had made out of one of his dresser drawers for Rebecca... Well, at least he was doing something. Harry finished the job and brought Rebecca over to the drawer, tucking her inside, and the doll cooed with contentment. He couldn't help but smile and run his hand softly over her hair... the strands were thin and fine; blond, like Malfoy's. Harry had to give credit to the magical quality of that cabinet—the doll had "inherited" features from both boys, the blond hair and slimness from Malfoy and the green eyes and olive skin from Harry. Harry himself thought it was quite a pleasant combination.

When he looked up from the cradle, he found Malfoy smirking at him. "What?" he asked.

Malfoy shook his head, still smirking. "You're just so goddamned Gryffindor. It's sickening." He laughed, not unkindly.

Harry smiled a little himself. "Yeah, well. I _am_ a Gryffindor," he replied lamely, eyes wandering back over to the now sleeping doll. He had no idea how it had happened; but he'd already become rather fond of Rebecca. Harry had always wanted to have children. Nott came into the room then, nodding briefly at Malfoy and walking over towards where Harry was standing over the doll.

"What are you staring at?" Nott asked, peering into the cradle. "Wow! She looks just like you two."

Blaise strode in as well, closing the door behind him. "Harry, I've got this—hey!" He looked into the drawer too and smiled down at the doll. "Look who has her own bed now. That's so cool."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, Malfoy's one contribution so far," he quipped, ignoring Malfoy's slight protests in the background. "By the way, we've named her too. It's Rebecca." He didn't try to keep the hint of protective pride from his voice.

Blaise's eyes flickered over to Malfoy for a split second, but before Harry could question it Blaise had turned back to him and smiled hugely. "That's great," he said. "Well... It's getting late, actually. Perhaps we should discuss more tomorrow, hm?" Without waiting for a response, the boy climbed into his bed and shut the curtains.

The rest of them mumbled somewhat confused replies and Harry shrugged, jumping into bed and placing his glasses carefully on the bed stand. After he was properly settled, he tugged his shirt over his head—it was a habit of his to do this in Gryffindor Tower, where it sometimes got very warm at night... and even though the dungeons were much cooler, Harry was used to his ritual by now. He didn't feel the need to change it. Besides, it wasn't like anybody cared about what he did around here; that was the nice thing about Slytherin. There were no concerned inquiries, no anxious 'what are you's or 'why are you's. That was partially the reason why he was beginning to not mind the dungeons so much.

As Harry lay back against his pillow in the now-darkness, he started to think about how strange it was that he did feel so comfortable here. He was sure that the Slytherins would try to sneak a prank on him at least once, despite their little pact on the first night, but all of the boys—even Malfoy, surprisingly—had seemed to stay true to their word. Harry had to give them a bit of credit for that. No doubt if it had been the other way around, with one of the Slytherins in Gryffindor territory, Harry and his friends would not be able to resist pulling a tiny joke. Perhaps the old whipped-cream-in-hand-and-tickle-with-quill one. That was Neville's favourite.

But then, the Slytherins weren't so bad to hang around with—Blaise Zabini, especially. Harry wouldn't have thought it before, but the boy was actually fantastic company, always ready to chat or do homework after dinner in the common room every night. It was a nice routine to look forward to, and Harry found it quite easy to just sit back and have a good laugh with him. Of course, Harry missed his friends in Gryffindor and the ease of laughter and fun he had with them, but at least Blaise provided a little of that for him here—and they were on first name basis now, which was monumental progress. Plus, Nott was accommodating enough and sometimes he even smiled at Harry.

And Malfoy… well, Malfoy was just _Malfoy_. The blond wasn't particularly friendly, but he wasn't horribly rude either—it was a huge improvement from having their wands at each other's throats, anyhow. Of course, he still taunted Harry, although his jabs seemed mostly good-natured for the most part, and Harry hadn't seen Malfoy smile so much in like… well, _ever_, really. Harry had to admit that it could be a really lovely smile if Malfoy did it more often. It was also sort of refreshing to know that Malfoy was indeed a human being. Who knew?

A soft noise near the foot of his bed broke through Harry's thoughts and he quickly tensed up in his covers. Hadn't everybody gone to sleep by now? Suddenly, his curtains were drawn back and a lithe figure hopped onto his bed, whipping the curtains back in place after him. "Wha—?" Harry sat up quickly, straining his eyes to see whom his intruder was. What the fuck? Had he been wrong about the no-prank policy? Because if so, this wasn't a very effective way of doing it. And he'd have to have a stern talk with the others in the morning.

"Calm down, it's just me." Blaise's voice cut through the heavy darkness and Harry let the tension fall from his shoulders. The bed curtains shook a little as Blaise cast a few spells on them, including a Silencing charm.

"Er… what are you doing here?" Harry asked calmly, as if it were normal for Blaise to be sitting here with him in the middle of the night. Honestly, it was weirding him out a little. Was this a Slytherin thing or something? Would Harry have to worry about _Malfoy_ crawling into his bed in the middle of the night? Harry almost snorted at the prospect.

"Sorry," Blaise muttered, and then he turned around, looking a little devious. "I just didn't want Draco to overhear us."

"Why would he want to?"

Blaise checked his spell work quickly and then leaned in, as if to whisper a juicy secret. "Who chose the name Rebecca?" he inquired, searching Harry's face as if he would find the answer there. And he probably could, if he tried hard enough. Harry wasn't an enigma.

Harry frowned. "Malfoy did, I just went with it," he admitted. "Why, is there something the matter with it?"

"No, it's just..." Blaise's expression was calculating. "Well..."

"It's just what?" Harry asked dumbly.

Blaise held out his pinky. "Promise not to tell Draco? He'd kill me if he knew I told you."

Harry grinned and hooked his pinky onto Blaise's. Possibly incriminating information on Malfoy, how could he resist? "I promise," he murmured.

Blaise smiled and began. "When Draco was nine, his mother had been pregnant with another child." He hesitated and let Harry react. "Completely mental, right? I know. Anyways, they were rather joyous when they heard the news, and even more so when they discovered that it was going to be a girl. Draco had been ecstatic for his new sister and he and Lucius had arranged a party for Narcissa in congratulations... yeah, things used to be different for the Malfoy family then."

He paused, and Harry tried to imagine a young Malfoy bouncing off the walls for a potential sister, but to no avail. Where was Blaise going with this story?

"Of course, you know what happened to them," Blaise said, looking grim now. "Lucius was starting to get back into the swing of politics and... well, you know. Everything changed. Soon after the announcement, the family discovered that they simply couldn't handle having another child at that point, especially when Lucius's career was so tender. So..." Blaise pursed his lips and winced. "Narcissa was forced to take care of the problem. I think... I think that's when their family started to, well, deteriorate. And poor Draco was rather devastated at his first loss of a family member. It had been a rather traumatic event for him, but he's always remained strong. He once told me that he would name his own firstborn daughter after his lost sister, because the name deserved to have its place in the Malfoy family..."

Harry cut in. "His sister's name was supposed to be Rebecca," he said quietly, realising it out loud.

Blaise stopped speaking and nodded. Harry bit his lip. Oh... gods. How terrible. He felt a twist of empathy towards Narcissa Malfoy. Harry couldn't even imagine what kind of hell she'd been through. And for such a vile man! Harry had never hated Lucius more. But... why had Malfoy named the baby doll after his unborn sister? She wasn't even real and this was a class assignment—with _Harry_, of all people. Had Malfoy meant to do it? Harry remembered the way that Malfoy had just blurted it out, looking shocked at himself for a moment... but still, he hadn't taken it back. Harry suddenly felt very touched by this. Evidently, Malfoy cared a lot more than he was letting on.

Blaise seemed to think the same thing. "You know, he's not a complete bastard," he said quietly, in the dark. "He's capable of emotion, he's just... rather good at hiding it. Honestly, I think he hates this project so much because he doesn't realise that it's what he always _wanted_—a sense of family, you know? Like it or not, Harry, you're the closest thing he's got now. You and that doll."

Harry smiled a little, a small rush of familiarity—and strangely, brotherhood—going through him for Malfoy at this point. Maybe he'd been a bit too judgmental of him. Harry hadn't been the only one with a fucked up childhood... He hadn't even realised that Malfoy could possibly be feeling the same way that Harry sometimes did. "Yeah, I suppose it makes sense," he remarked slowly.

"Yeah," Blaise replied. "Well, I just wanted to let you know... and I hope you think about what I said. Goodnight, Harry." He shot Harry a quick smile before taking the spells off the curtains, climbing from the bed and disappearing into the darkness.

"Thanks, Blaise," Harry called out, although he wasn't sure that the boy had heard him.

**~x~**

The next day Harry found himself dozing off in Potions as Slughorn dictated some lecture that he really should have been paying attention to—he just couldn't keep his eyes open. Even his friends had noticed; Hermione kept giving him stern looks and Ron poked his side periodically to wake him so that Slughorn wouldn't get suspicious of Harry's slack figure (not that he would have pointed it out, anyways)... But even the sternest of looks and hardest of pokes could not fully wake Harry now. Gods, what a rough morning. He slumped down further. It wasn't fair.

Just after the talk with Blaise the night before, Rebecca-doll had found it a fitting time to bust out in a horrible tantrum, wailing so loudly that she threatened to wake the entire castle—let alone the occupants of the dorm. All of the boys had tried in vain to shush the baby, sitting cross-legged on Harry's bed and taking turns holding her in futile attempts to placate her until dawn came. At 4 AM (Harry privately referred to this particular time as The Dark Hour), Nott had even gone to such measures as to sing her a lullaby, and completely off-key, one might add... Long story short: none of them had gotten a wink of sleep, they all wanted to kill one another as well as the doll, and now Harry was feeling particularly testy. And fucking exhausted. If Harry wasn't going to get any sleep in his dorm, he might as well find a bit of relief now...

But just as he was about to slip into the comfortable silence of his mind once again, the door creaked open and Malfoy's blond head popped in, obviously in attempt to be discreet. And obviously failing. Harry groaned in annoyance. What _now_? Malfoy had a free period and was supposed to be taking care of Rebecca at the moment—could he really not handle being alone with the doll for just an hour?

"Psst. _Psst_! Potter!" Malfoy hissed, glancing at Slughorn, who by some miracle hadn't appeared to notice the disturbance. Harry rolled his eyes.

"What the hell, Malfoy? What are you doing?" he whispered back, and a few people around him turned to listen to the conversation with the interest of bored pupils. Harry really wished that they had something better to do. "And where's Rebecca?"

"She's... well... I need you! She's going mental—I don't know what the fuck is going on." Malfoy supported this by biting his lip desperately and glaring at Harry as if that were his fault. "What was that thing you did yesterday? The thing with your hand?"

Harry glared back. "That thing is called _holding_ her, Malfoy, you should try it sometime," he snapped. "Now go away. As you can clearly see, I am in the middle of class." Just as he said that, a looming shadow appeared over his desk. He stared at it for a moment, then glanced up meekly. "Oh... Hello... Professor."

"Harry, dear boy." Slughorn looked endeared rather than angry. "I don't want to have to tell you to pay attention, I know that you are a good stu—" the Professor turned his head a little, now having finally noticed Malfoy, who was still frozen in the door with a chagrined expression on his face. "Oh! Mr. Malfoy, can I help you?"

"Er… Hello Sir," Malfoy said politely. "Would you mind sending Potter out here, he's uh, needed by the Headmaster." Malfoy was a smooth liar; his lies only to be noticed by those who knew that he was a complete mental git, like Harry. "It's urgent. Come on." Malfoy looked annoyed for a moment, and then panicked, and something in his eyes became a bit desperate. Harry just stared at him incredulously. What the fuck was he doing out there?

"Sir, Malfoy just wants Harry outside so they can go snog in secret," a voice piped up. Harry looked around, but the owner refused to identify themselves. There were quiet snickers going throughout the room now.

"Yeah Harry," another voice exclaimed. "Go show Malfoy 'that thing you did with your hand yesterday'!"

"I bet Malfoy's got baby-daddy issues!"

The whole class was bursting into full-blown laughter at this point. Both Harry and Malfoy looked around to glare at the offender, but seeing as everybody was giggling, the task was impossible. Harry's face burned.

"Mr. Malfoy, is that true?" Slughorn was staring.

Malfoy had become visibly pinker and mumbled in embarrassment.

"What was that?"

Malfoy spoke up a bit louder. "It was not my intention to steal Potter away to snog, secretly or otherwise," he protested, with slight horror.

Slughorn looked properly abashed. "My, my, that was not my inquiry at all," he insisted. "Let me make this clearer: you need help with a... baby?"

"Oh," Malfoy muttered. "Yes, mine and Potter's baby. I mean, it's not _our_ baby. Well, actually it is, but it's not like it came out of one of us because I don't think that is even possible, and you know, it's not a real baby, but it is ours, and... For Merlin's sake, Potter! Get out here!"

"Er," Harry said helpfully.

Slughorn seemed to have regained his control again, now appearing to be faintly amused. "Ah, I see, Mr. Malfoy. Somewhat." He gestured. "Well, don't be shy, come in and bring it here with you. I don't want Harry out of class if he doesn't need to be."

Malfoy hesitated for a moment before fully stepping into the classroom with Rebecca in his arms. Harry breathed a sigh of relief—but then he noticed that there was a sock stuffed in her delicate mouth. A sock! "What the hell, Malfoy!" Harry jumped up and grabbed the baby out of Malfoy's grasp, gaping at him as if he'd just personally killed his owl right in front of him. "You're _suffocating_ her!"

The doll's shouts immediately filled the room as Harry took the sock out and Malfoy—not to mention the rest of the class—grimaced at the noise. "She's a fucking doll, Potter," Malfoy groaned. "Besides, she wouldn't shut up! I didn't see any other option."

"You thought that your only option was to shove… a _sock_… down her throat?" Harry tried to keep his voice level as he forced the words out. "What the_ fuck_ is wrong with you?"

Malfoy puffed up defensively. "Nothing is wrong with me!" he shouted. "I would ask the same of you but I already know that _somebody_ didn't get his fucking eight hours last night. Hint: it wasn't either one of us! And besides, I wouldn't go around blaming it all on me if I were you, since you were the one who came up with the brilliant idea to have her sleep in our bloody dresser in the first place. So you know what? Fuck you!"

"Language!" Slughorn exclaimed belatedly, but nobody listened.

What an arse. What a complete arse. Malfoy was so going to get it when they got back to the privacy of the dorms, where Harry could use a Silencing charm and a good Stinging hex at his own will. Fucking Malfoy though! He had no right to accuse Harry of being the problem, especially when Malfoy had done nothing but aggravate the doll from the very beginning! Harry refused to answer Malfoy now, cradling the baby doll protectively and shooting icy glares at Malfoy from time to time. After a while, Malfoy sighed.

"Look, I'm pants at childcare, okay? I don't know what to do." The Slytherin seemed to give up his defiant glower, now running his hand through his hair tiredly. "That's why I'm asking. You think that I would have bothered to come here otherwise? It's not as if I'm particularly fond of begging for your attention, Potter, don't flatter yourself. Besides, she kept us up all night and my patience is running thin."

Harry sighed and cuddled the doll some more, whispering softly and caressing her tiny cheek with his thumb. She was still crying. "S'okay, Becca," he murmured. "It's alright, shh, I've got you." He kissed the blonde curls around her little face and pushed them back. In an instant, he was acutely aware of the majority of the girls in the room watching him with unadulterated adoration and a wave of embarrassment passed through his chest. He silently passed the now quieting baby back over to Malfoy, who was looking at him with a mixed expression. Harry figured that it was Malfoy's way of appearing impressed.

"Why couldn't you have done that last night, Potter?" Malfoy asked, looking down at the bundle in his arms and tentatively bringing a hand to Rebecca's forehead, sweeping more hair away from her eyes. He smiled at the pleased little coos the doll was starting to make.

"Done it last night..." Seamus snickered. Both Harry and Malfoy sent him stern warning looks (Malfoy's probably a tad more stern than Harry's), and Seamus didn't say another word. He was still grinning, though.

Harry looked back to Malfoy holding the doll and shook his head, remembering Blaise's story about Malfoy's almost-sister. How wonderful it must be for Malfoy to feel something like that again—albeit in the form of a class assignment baby doll, but still. Despite his current annoyance with Malfoy, Harry also felt a burst of respect for him, for all that he'd gone through and all that he'd buried deep within him. Harry touched Malfoy's arm cautiously and gave him a reassuring smile when he looked over. He was surprised when Malfoy smiled back at him, and they both looked down at their little baby with newfound tenderness. It was rather surreal to be standing here, cradling a baby doll as if it were real, a doll that he shared with Draco Malfoy. But it was strangely pleasant at the same time. Because even though Rebecca was a doll and this was a project, Harry felt as if he had drawn himself infinitely closer to Malfoy than he ever dared to before.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Thanks as always for the wonderful reviews. It's still Harry's POV!**

Chapter 8

Harry was exhausted. No, he was beyond exhausted; he was barely even _alive_. The nightly crying had not stopped. For the past week, the baby would not shut up at all, despite the boys' desperate and sometimes ridiculous attempts to quiet her. And of course, she would fall right asleep in the morning when it was time for them to get to class. The doll had to be possessed or something. That could be the only explanation; Harry honestly didn't know what else it could be.

At first, he thought she might need a change or perhaps some food, but that had not satiated the little doll in the slightest. No, it was something else. And that something else had kept the four occupants of the room without a wink of proper sleep for a whole week, and everybody was starting to get a little more than a bit testy with each other—like right now, for example. It was 1AM, a relatively early start for Rebecca, but nobody was grateful for it. In fact, they were all glaring.

"Here little Becky, look what I've got—"

"Damn it Blaise, why the fuck would she want that? She's a doll, for Merlin's sake!"

"I wasn't the one stuffing socks down her throat, was I? So I'd shut it if I were you, Draco."

"I'll stuff a sock down _your_ throat!"

"I'll stuff a brick down _both_ of your throats!"

"Fuck off, Nott, you haven't done anything productive tonight!"

"Do you want me to sing to her again?"

"Keep your bloody fucking trap shut!"

Harry sighed and took the shrieking Rebecca gently out of Blaise's grip, which was starting to get unusually tight. He had opted not to say a word during these senseless battles the other boys got into, not wishing to have three sleep-deprived Slytherins at his throat. That would not be a smart thing to do. The boys were all sitting on the floor next to Malfoy's bed and, deciding that he'd rather sit on the soft bed than the hard ground, Harry got up and sat on it. He plopped himself down and cradled the doll in his arms gingerly, making her and himself a little more comfortable. With that, her shrieks lessened immediately.

Nott had his wand pointed at a furious Malfoy, who was pinching Blaise's arm so hard it was turning white. But at the sudden quietness, they all turned to stare at Harry and Rebecca. The doll's cries became slight whimpers.

"Bloody hell, Harry. What did you just _do_?" Blaise jumped up from the ground and strode over towards Malfoy's bed, inspecting Harry with suspicion.

"Nothing, I just sat down here. I guess that she likes Malfoy's bed." Harry yawned and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Anyway, I think she's quiet enough so that we can sleep for a couple hours before class. Let's move, lads."

The boys all nodded in agreement, quickly gliding over to their beds to regain some much needed rest. Harry himself was close to just passing out right where he was, except for the fact that Malfoy was standing over him looking just the slightest bit annoyed.

"Ahem, Potter," he snapped.

"Right, I'm going." Harry put Rebecca down on Malfoy's forest green silk duvet before sliding off the bed and heading towards his own. Surely, Malfoy could handle the doll during the nights, right? It's not like he had to do anything, except for try not to squish her. And if she liked to sleep in Malfoy's bed rather than the makeshift cradle, so be it. As long as Harry could have some decent sleep.

But just as suddenly as the noise had stopped, it began again, the sound of increasing wails filling the room again. He whipped around, finding Malfoy sitting there with his head in his hands, muttering angrily. The doll was on his lap, bawling.

"What the hell did you do now, Malfoy?" Harry groaned. He felt disappointment and annoyance wash over him, seeing the same expression on all of the faces around them. Nott looked sort of murderous, even.

"I didn't do anything, Potter," Malfoy spat, looking up to glare at Harry. "You left, and she started crying. So really, this is _your_ fault! I swear I had nothing to do with it!"

Harry sighed and came back, taking the doll in his hands and bouncing her a little. Perhaps she just liked him better than Malfoy? He wouldn't blame her for it; nobody liked Malfoy. But she didn't stop crying, even when he tried to kiss her forehead. Confused and more than a little exasperated, he sat back down on the bed next to Malfoy and grumbled. Just then, the doll became completely silent. Completely. Harry looked down. She was finally asleep! He turned to look at Malfoy, who stared back at him, bewildered.

"She's quiet. She's perfectly _quiet_!" Nott looked as if he were about to burst out into joyful tears. In fact, his eyes already looked rather wet. Nott really needed to get some sleep.

Blaise fell down onto his bed with a triumphant whoop, already half asleep in the process. "She clearly likes the idea of her parents sharing a bed. What child doesn't? So don't you dare move, either of you," he warned menacingly before turning over and shutting the curtains tight.

"But I—we—how are we supposed to—"

"Go to _sleep_, damn it!"

Now Harry and Malfoy were left in darkness, awkwardly sitting next to each other on Malfoy's bed. Harry shook his head incredulously. This entire week the doll had been moaning because she wanted them to sleep together? This was ridiculous—even the damned doll was playing matchmaker now. He thought of Snape's face twisting in cruel amusement and shook his head again. The man probably did this just to spite them, the evil bastard. But Blaise did have a point, most small children liked to see their parents together and happy, and Rebecca had the wants of an actual child... Harry's stomach lurched at the thought of him and Malfoy being her 'parents' and for the third time, shook his head. Whatever. He was not going to let the idea of Malfoy spoil his sleep.

Harry looked over at his Slytherin counterpart, who was still frozen with an expression of extreme annoyance on his face. "Well, you can just sit there, Malfoy," Harry remarked. "But whether you're here or not, I'm getting some sleep."

He lay the doll carefully in between them and inched his body down, feeling incredibly uncomfortable settling himself on the foreign bed that was Malfoy's. This was some serious forbidden territory he had crossed here. For a moment it was quiet, but a rustle indicated Malfoy's movement and Harry suddenly felt a hard jab at his ribs. He turned and started to glare, only to find Malfoy leaning back on his pillow, half underneath the covers and looking back at Harry with an expression that said, 'well, are you going to sleep like _that_?' Harry smiled at the other boy now, grateful for the silent gesture, no matter how awkward it was. At least they could agree on something.

He climbed into the covers and arranged the doll in between them again to create a little barrier. It would do for now. He glanced over at Malfoy in the darkness, who was still looking at him with a petulant face. "Night, Malfoy," he murmured. "Thanks."

Harry took off his glasses and set them on Malfoy's bed stand. _Malfoy's_ bed stand. Next to _Malfoy's_ bed, which Harry was sleeping in with _Malfoy_. This couldn't get any more bizarre. Harry sighed and took off his shirt, trying not to care so much about it... He felt Malfoy stiffen next to him and shift away. "You all right?" he asked. He hadn't thought it would bother Malfoy at all. Besides, it was the sort of thing he'd thought that Malfoy would be rather used to—they were living in an all boys' dorm, anyway.

Malfoy merely grunted and plopped down, pointedly turning his back to Harry and ending the conversation. Harry just shrugged and turned his back too, pushing his body as far away from Malfoy as possible. This was uncomfortable, but as long as it kept the baby doll quiet, he'd be willing to do just about anything. Even if the feeling of sharing a bed was far too warm for his liking.

**~x~**

The next few nights carried on similarly. The dorm had come to a silent agreement not to mention it to anybody else, as it was mortifying to all that a mere baby doll had controlled their lives for a whole week, but they still shared secret glances at one point or another in gratitude that the nightly terrors seemed to be over. Personally, Harry was immensely relieved to have his regular sleep schedule back on track, though it was still a little strange to sleep in the same bed as his archenemy every night.

At first, he had thought it was horrifying, but now he found it quite a comical situation. How many times in his life could he say that he'd slept with the enemy? All right, so it wasn't like that—but every night when he crawled into bed and Malfoy got uncomfortably annoyed with him and didn't say a word, Harry decided that it was worth it. He liked quiet Malfoy better than most things and he cheerfully took this silence as a victory.

But Harry wasn't in bed with Malfoy at the moment, he was in Potions yet again, with Slughorn's voice droning on and on for what seemed like an eternity. Merlin, it was a long class. He repeatedly checked the time, finding it more and more unsatisfactory with every hopeful glance. Hm. Harry couldn't stop himself from worrying about how Malfoy was faring with Rebecca... because even though the Slytherin had promised that there would be no more sock-situations, Harry could never be too sure. Malfoy hadn't kept his promises with the diaper changes either.

Ron poked Harry's side. "Hey mate, are you okay?" he whispered. "Heard you weren't getting a lot of sleep lately." He gestured over towards Hermione, who was avidly taking notes. Harry shook his head and sighed. Trust Hermione to voice her concerns for him to Ron.

He nodded now, glancing over at Slughorn quickly before saying anything. "Yeah, we were having trouble with the baby," Harry murmured back, and noticed Ron was trying to suppress a grin at this. "She was keeping our whole dorm up with her crying. But don't worry about it, we shut her up."

Ron grinned and smacked his shoulder. "Good. I don't think I could've continued to cover for you in all our classes." He snorted. "So what did you do to make her quiet down?"

Harry bit his lip, not knowing how to respond. It was sort of a private dorm thing, but he didn't usually keep things from his best friend. Besides, it was a rather embarrassing story on his part... although, it was embarrassing for Malfoy as well, and Ron loved embarrassing stories about Malfoy. They were rare. "Um, you know," Harry mumbled. "She just wanted to be closer to me—and Malfoy." He kept his eyes trained towards the front of the room, hoping that Ron wouldn't push it further.

"What, so you put her in between your beds or something?" Ron's prodding continued, despite Harry's silent hope.

Harry smiled nervously. "Something like that."

Ron nudged him again. "Come on, I'm bored. Tell me."

Harry shot an exasperated look at his friend. "Malfoy and I have to sleep together so that she won't cry."

Ron's face turned bright red. "Seriously? What the… bloody…" Harry waited for the explosion, but it only came in the form of laughter. Ron's silent guffawing cut off his own words and he had put his head down on his desk to smother them. He was still making small whimpering noises, however.

Harry glared at him. "It's not funny," he muttered, secretly relieved that Ron hadn't reacted like he thought the redhead would. He knew that Ron seemed to hate Malfoy even more than Harry did, and the fact that they were sleeping in the same bed was a little strange. But then again, it wasn't as if Harry was confessing a secret love obsession for the Slytherin prat. They just had to share a bed and that was all. Ron understood that, right?

Hermione jabbed them both with her quill. "Will you guys pay attention for once? Honestly," she clucked, shaking her head and pointing to the board, "This is important information. You'll need it for exams!"

Ron turned so that only Harry could see and rolled his eyes. Harry grinned back at him.

**~x~**

Later that day, Harry found himself wedged between Malfoy and Hermione in a tight circle Snape had formed of the Marriage Sex and Family students. Something sharp was protruding from Hermione's side and he turned to look at her with an open mouth, only to find that it was a spare quill in her pocket and she was already shushing him before he could even speak. He turned back around.

"Today we will be sharing our progress with the rest of the class," Snape announced, smiling malevolently at them. "We will be doing this once a week. This way, I will be able to create an accurate representation of the final grade that you will receive and your classmates will be able to visualise your experiences at the same time."

Harry rolled his eyes, annoyed. For someone who claimed to hate teaching this class, Snape was certainly having a grand old time doing it. The man was going bonkers. Harry glanced over at Malfoy, who looked at him and rolled his eyes as well. Harry felt a small sense of camaraderie with the other boy and tried to hide his blossoming smile behind a cough.

Hermione and Blaise were first and they were already talking about their project. They had been assigned careers; Blaise was to research a muggle policeman and Hermione a muggle nurse. This clearly excited both of them, as Harry had never seen the two of them get along as they were now, animatedly discussing together. He felt pride in both his friends for that. It wasn't an easy feat. Earlier that week, Hermione had informed Harry that she had spent almost two days trying to soothe burns on her arms from one of Blaise's hexes. Obviously, progress had been made.

Next, Neville and Luna showed the class their growing plant and explained the daily care routine that they went through. It was endearing how Neville cradled the pot as he spoke and Luna hovered around it in case of spillage. They looked like proud parents. Harry absently wondered if that was what he and Malfoy were going to look like, too. He snorted. That would be highly unlikely, seeing as he and Malfoy could hardly take care of Rebecca at the same time without exploding at one another. But it was a nice thought anyway, sort of.

Ron and Pansy Parkinson went after them. They talked about their project, which was apparently just like the questioning except that they had to "step into each other's shoes" more—they had been required to spend an hour each night "discussing the heart's emotions using a spell that would bind their minds together temporarily". In short, it was a bunch of rubbish for blackmail. Harry still thought it was quite hilarious, though Ron had smacked his arm for laughing.

Nott and Ginny's project was on safe sex, which everyone took avid interest in. They had to research both wizard and muggle techniques to make sex stimulating yet safe. Nott boldly explained their "experiments", while Ginny blushed prettily next to him. Harry grinned at her, knowing that look and feeling happy for her. She seemed to fancy Nott, and Harry could tell Nott fancied her too. This project was probably an absolute blessing for them. Harry couldn't help thinking though—at least it hadn't been him and Malfoy.

Speaking of, it was now their turn. Harry shifted towards his partner in expectation. He didn't know how to start off; he was sure that he'd just make a mess of it if he did. Malfoy rolled his eyes, understanding this, but Harry could see a smile was fighting to show on his lips. Harry smiled too, finding the expression kind of... attractive. He shook his head. Did he just think something Malfoy did was _attractive?_

"We have been taking care of this doll here, whom we've named Rebecca." Malfoy's voice rang with confidence throughout the circle. "It's more challenging than you think, taking care of a baby. Since Rebecca has the needs and wants of an actual child, she can be very high maintenance even though she is just a doll. We've had to change her clothes and feed her the proper baby food, bathe her and entertain her." Malfoy looked over at Harry, expecting him to continue.

Harry cleared his throat nervously. "Right," he affirmed. "It's like Malfoy said, she's very much like a real baby. Sometimes she can be a nuisance, but I guess that's what parenting is about. And by that, I mean... It's not all flowers and sunshine, it's real hard work, and I think that it's something that can only be understood from experience. Of course, it's quite exhausting, but in the end, our efforts have produced several rewarding aspects as well." Malfoy looked at him with approval, but Harry heard Ron snort from across the room. He frowned.

"Do you have something to add, Mr. Weasley?" Snape's cold voice cut through Ron's laughter.

"Er, no sir," Ron said meekly. But his mouth was still somewhat twisted in a smile, as if he were trying to hide it.

"Please. Share it with the class." Snape was smirking now, as if he knew something that the rest of them didn't. Did he?

"Um, no. It's not my project," Ron insisted, and he was looking at Harry nervously. Harry stared back at him, confused. Why was he watching him like that? And why did the others in the class feel the need to do it too?

Blaise had also caught on to whatever it was, giving Harry and Malfoy small discreet looks of amusement. Harry frowned at him. Snape had seen Blaise's expression as well, and now used it to his advantage. "What about you, Mr. Zabini?" Snape asked. "Something to share?"

Blaise just smiled pleasantly. "No. Weasley's right. It _is_ their project, we should let them explain. Lads?"

Snape had a glint in his eye as he turned to face Harry. "Well, go on then, Potter," he drawled.

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who was glaring daggers at both Blaise and Snape now. He was still puzzled. "Um, _okay_... Well, you see, by 'exhausting', I had meant that we had gone through quite a struggle. Rebecca had a hard time sleeping for a while and she hadn't been very quiet about it—difficult work, like I said. There was a point where we all had to stay up to try and calm her down." He shot apologetic glances at the other three boys, hoping that he wasn't crossing some sort of secret line as to which this information could not be shared. But none of them objected, not even the livid-looking Malfoy.

Snape's smile grew. "Let Malfoy continue, Potter," he offered.

Harry sighed as he was let off the hook, but then noticed that the blond next to him was stiff, as if trying to control himself. What was wrong? Harry had no idea what was going on. Then again, he never seemed to. What was it that made Malfoy so angry and Snape so giddy? He shuddered at the image of a giddy Snape. Note to self: never think about that again.

"Potter figured out a solution that helped us all get some sleep," Malfoy said, his words chosen carefully. "See, Rebecca wasn't happy with our sleeping arrangements. We just had to get her closer to us and she would remain quiet for the night."

"And how exactly did you do that?" Snape's smirk was positively evil now. Harry felt Malfoy shift uneasily next to him. Wait. How did Snape know about—? _Oh_. Oh Merlin. Harry finally understood what it was that they had to tell the entire class now. He felt a blush creep onto his face. Gods, he was dense.

"Ah... the situation called for Potter and myself to, well..."

Apparently Blaise couldn't handle it anymore. He jumped up and exclaimed, "they're sleeping together!"

"It's not like that!" Malfoy shouted immediately, but his attempts were lost at that point; the entire class burst out into rambunctious laughter, teasing, and taunting. Snape was actually guffawing, which was sort of disturbing and hilarious at the same time. But Harry wasn't laughing at all. He stared at the ground, willing it to swallow him up, _right now._Why the fuck did that information have to come up? What sort of twisted game was this? He groaned and put his head in his hands, seeing Malfoy mimic his actions next to him.

"Fucking hell," he muttered to the other boy.

"I know." Malfoy looked up and laughed bitterly. "Why do people insist on putting us in these situations?"

Harry grumbled. "They find it funny, I suppose."

Malfoy shook his head. "Oh good, we're _funny_ now. Fantastic."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: For whomever it may apply to, Happy Halloween!**

Chapter 9

Harry sat back in his chair irritably, rubbing his eyes and looking for a distraction—any distraction—to keep him from his homework. He had been doing this in several variations for the past twenty minutes. It was terribly boring to sit at a desk in the library all day, trying to catch up on the homework he'd neglected over the past two weeks. Honestly, why hadn't he just done it when it had been assigned? This was the eternal question. He still had two essays for Transfiguration and Potions to complete, as well as notes to copy from Charms, but all he could do was worry about Rebecca. Malfoy had taken the doll back to the dorm about an hour ago, and Harry didn't like the thought of the other boy being alone with her. He shook his head at the idea of something bad happening. Malfoy wasn't such a terrible git anymore, but he definitely still had his moments—like what would forever be known as the Sock Incident. Harry was never going to let that go.

An hour later, he was tapping his quill upon his parchment and idly staring at the ceiling, still having nothing done. For fuck's sake, how did Hermione do this for fun? This was absolute torture... he couldn't do it anymore. Harry was about to pick up and leave when Blaise pranced over to his desk. "Hey, Harry," Blaise greeted, plopping himself down across from him and smiling brilliantly. "Finished yet? Draco's getting all huffy because the doll likes you better."

Harry chuckled. "Of course she does, I'm much nicer to her than he is," he remarked. "All Malfoy's done is yell at her and stuff various clothing items in her mouth. Rebecca must have built up an intolerance to him."

Blaise laughed. "At least we know she's perceptive. So are you ready?"

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his tangled mane in frustration. "Er, sorry, I'm not. Tell Malfoy that it might be a while. I'm absolutely stuck on this shit."

Blaise made a face and peered over at Harry's parchment. "Potions, huh?" he asked sympathetically. "Draco's brilliant at Potions. I'll go get him if you'd like, you'd finish faster with his help."

Harry gave Blaise a look. "I don't think that he'd help me."

Blaise laughed. "He would if it could help him get rid of Rebecca faster. Honestly, Harry, you've got a lot to learn about Slytherin priorities. Listen, how about I go get him and I'll take care of Rebecca? I'm sure that will ease both of you."

Harry nodded. When it came to taking care of children, Blaise seemed to be a natural expert... at least, he was infinitely more capable than Malfoy was. Wasn't that the only thing that mattered, anyway? It would be much better if Blaise had Rebecca than if Malfoy did. "Fine, that sounds good. Thanks Blaise," Harry said, shooting a genuine smile at his friend.

Blaise returned it. "You do have a lovely smile," he muttered, just loud enough for Harry to hear. Then he wandered off before Harry got the chance to respond.

Harry sat back again. He had a nice smile? He tried smiling again, wondering if he could feel the niceness of it. Well, he couldn't, and now he just felt silly. Harry furrowed his brows at his parchment again, sighing. Why had he agreed to have Malfoy come and help him, of all people? They'd probably just get frustrated with each other and leave angry, and he didn't want any setbacks in their already timid relationship. Besides, they had their little questionnaire meeting tonight and he'd rather they were cordial at it... Harry really could have just gotten Hermione's help, even though he was loathe to listen to her lectures today. It would still be more effective than a Malfoy lecture, which would probably end in blood, or tears—or _both_.

After a few minutes of waiting, he glanced at the entrance, wondering if Malfoy would even show up. Harry found himself wishing that he wouldn't, just so that they could stay on good terms (if you could call it that) until their questioning. But as though he'd been summoned, Malfoy now appeared across from him at his desk, carrying a Potions text and wearing an irritated expression. Harry sighed. He could already tell that this was going to be painful.

"Potter, let's get this done so you can take care of the little monster," Malfoy snapped, plopping into a seat and opening up his textbook to the correct page.

Harry peered at him. "What did she do to you now?" he asked.

Malfoy glared at him. "She vomited on me—three times. And then Nott was laughing, so I had to hex him, and that made her cry. I tried to comfort her and she vomited again." He grimaced and rolled his eyes. "I swear, she despises me."

Harry tried not to laugh. He didn't want to set Malfoy off on him. "Come on... she doesn't _despise_ you," he placated.

Malfoy gave him a look. "Don't talk to me like I am a child, Potter. I will not hesitate to vomit on you."

Harry grimaced. "Could you not?"

Malfoy sighed and sat back in his seat, rubbing his temples. "Honestly, I didn't know that a baby could be such a pain in the arse," he confessed. "I never want to have children."

Harry shook his head. "Don't say that," he argued. "Of course babies are a handful, but that's because they need care and love. Once you've got your own baby in your arms, soft and warm and _real_... maybe you'll understand." Harry paused. "I know that I really want to. I couldn't ever give up a child, not for anything."

Harry suddenly felt a little wistful, thinking of his own neglected childhood. He couldn't remember the love he'd gotten from his own parents and he certainly hadn't gotten any from the Dursleys. Gods. Harry would never allow his own kid to feel the way that he had felt during the first eleven years of his life. He would never wish that kind of sadness on somebody else at all. He took a deep breath and tried not to look too dismal, but Malfoy was already watching him with a softer expression now. It made Harry wonder when it was that Malfoy had started to care whether or not Harry felt sad.

"You're right," the blond said quietly, before grabbing Harry's parchment and silently looking over the sparse amount of work that was done there. Shaking his head, he took out a quill and started crossing things out, underlining, and adding phrases. With a satisfied expression, he gave it back to Harry after a few minutes. "See what you did here? You were describing the essence of the root, when you were supposed to be describing its use value. Look." He pointed at the book with the quill. "There's your answer. Simple."

Harry watched Malfoy curiously as he continued to talk, astonished at how agreeable he was being. And after an hour or so, it had become record time. Harry didn't think they'd ever gone this long without some sort of snide comment or remark thrown around. Every so often he would smile appreciatively and thank Malfoy, writing down the paragraph he was supposed to with quiet obedience, and Malfoy would nod back. They worked like that for another hour, Malfoy pointing out helpful hints and Harry eagerly writing them down.

As he finished, Harry held up his parchment with a satisfied grin. This was definitely the best Potions essay he'd ever written, including the ones with Hermione's help. He'd never quite understood any of the Potions passages as well as he did now; something about the way that Malfoy explained it made it seem so much easier. The Slytherin had gotten straight to the point, not shying away from the little details and not going off on another tangent about something else. Simple, yet effective. Harry smiled at his essay again. Maybe he should consider doing this more often.

"Malfoy, I can't thank you enough," Harry remarked, as he felt the intense joy of finishing a particular difficult assignment rush through him. It was wonderful.

Malfoy managed a non-terrible smile at him. "It was really no problem, Potter. Honestly, you're not so bad at Potions, you just need to be pointed in the right direction." Seeming to realise that he'd actually paid Harry a compliment, Malfoy reddened. It wasn't a bad look on him.

"Really?" Harry grinned. "That's—that's really nice, Malfoy. Thank you."

They sat there for a few minutes in amicable silence. It was pleasant. Harry thought that he could do this all day.

"Well, we should get going," Malfoy declared. "Blaise is probably going bonkers now with Rebecca." The blond actually smirked at the thought. Harry nodded his head in agreement. Malfoy was probably right, no matter how excellent Blaise was with children, Rebecca could get a little crazy now and then. It was better to take care of her in shifts. They left the library together, walking in silence that was strangely still not awkward at all. Harry scuffled his feet against the floor and shot another appreciative look at Malfoy. Yes, this was definitely something that he wanted to do more often.

**~x~**

When Harry walked to the questioning classroom that night with Rebecca bundled up in his arms, he felt confident that today's session would be a tolerable one, if not even better. He'd been surprised that he'd actually had quite a nice time working with Malfoy in the library that afternoon and he hoped that tonight would be just as peaceful. Harry tickled the little doll absently, who made small noises of joy, and smiled. Yes, he and Malfoy were starting to get along quite well. Who would've guessed it? Perhaps this project was a blessing, after all. He opened the door and found Malfoy already there, arranging his items on one of the desks.

"Hey," Harry called out, placing his bag down on the seat next to Malfoy's and putting Rebecca down in between them. Malfoy glanced up at him.

"Hey, Potter. Are you ready?"

Harry grinned. "Let's do it."

They had already exchanged a few questions before Harry could even sit down properly in his seat—Malfoy was efficient (and annoying) like that. Harry sighed. He noticed the questionnaires had gotten longer and more complex with each session and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was a good thing that he had gotten that Potions essay done, or else he'd be up all night doing it. And that was something that he really did not want to start doing again.

"What is your biggest regret, and would you go back and change it if you could?" Malfoy asked now. He was looking at Harry expectantly, quill poised in his hand.

Harry thought for a moment. A million things were running through his head. The pang in his chest—the one that often came with thinking about his past—had gotten more painful lately. "Honestly, Malfoy, there are too many to count," he confessed softly, not looking up at Malfoy's face. "Do you know how many people I could've saved if I hadn't gone and done something stupid or rash? How many families could have remained together if not for me?" Harry stopped and blinked rapidly, feeling the stinging tears behind his eyes threatening to fall. "Sometimes, I just think... I'm not really a hero, you know?"

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy leaned forward and placed a tentative hand on Harry's arm. "Everyone makes mistakes, Potter. There's no reason to apologise for simply being human." He paused and let go. "And fuck the gods of irony for making me say it, but you really are a hero. Oddly enough, I kind of think that you're even more fucking heroic because you think that you aren't. Honestly."

Harry looked up at Malfoy with wonder. Everyone had experienced horrors from the war, it was true, but for some reason, nobody ever seemed to really understand it—the guilt, the pain, the waking-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-gasping feeling of inexorability. But Malfoy knew somehow, he knew everything and all of it, inside and out, even though he and Harry had been on different sides of the war—like two sides of the same coin. It was how Malfoy had explained Harry's Potions assignment; straightforward. Malfoy wasn't about to give Harry any bullshit about how perfect he had been, or how now that the war was over, they could all move on. Because they couldn't.

"I don't know what it is about you, Malfoy," Harry said slowly, still gazing at the other boy. "You're just... something. Really something."

Malfoy scoffed a bit. "_You're_ calling _me_ something? That's new."

Harry smiled a little. "It's a compliment."

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, and then he looked away and smiled as well. "I never talk about this stuff, Potter," he admitted softly. "With anyone."

"You know what? Me neither." Harry took a deep breath. "But I realise that sometimes we have to, or else we'll never get over it."

"We don't have to get over it," Malfoy retorted, his eyes flashing a bit now as he turned back to Harry. "We simply have to learn from it. But, I suppose, if there is anyone who has learned the most from this war, it would be you. I shouldn't even be talking." He laughed bitterly. "You had everything to lose."

Harry gazed at him. "So did you."

Malfoy looked away again.

Rebecca started crying then and Harry picked her up, cuddling and shushing her until she was quiet once more. He smiled tenderly at her, bringing her close. She was a perfect reminder of why he was still going... because when he really did have children, he would love them with all his heart. He would always show it; he would always be there for them. He knew how important that was. His children would not have to feel the pain that he had felt.

When Harry turned back to Malfoy, the boy was watching him again. "You know Potter, you're going to be a good father, I honestly mean that," Malfoy said. "You're going to raise some really amazing kids. They'll take after you." He hesitated and shook his head. "I can only hope that one day, I'll be able to do the same."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. So he wasn't the only one who was unsure about the future, then—it was so strange. Harry hadn't even had a clue that Malfoy had any doubts at all; he'd always figured that the Slytherin would take his rightful place as the Malfoy heir and live his life in luxury. He'd thought that Malfoy had it all planned already. It was just now that Harry was seeing that even the most composed of people didn't have everything figured out. The future was daunting for each and every one of them. He bit his lip, suddenly realising that he really didn't know Malfoy at all, despite their frequent contact over the years. He also realised that he _wanted_ to know him.

"Malfoy..." Harry took a deep breath. "All we've ever done is fight. And for what? To be honest, I don't want to fight with you anymore. What do you say we try and... start over?"

He held out his hand.

"I'd really like for us to be friends."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Heads up, we're switching back to Draco's POV!**

Chapter 10

Draco stared at the hand that was extended out to him. He was astonished; he'd never thought that this day would come. He had always dreamed of it, yes, he dreamed of it quite often. Draco had always liked to say that he would snub any gesture of friendship Potter might ever offer him, but in reality, he didn't have a clue what he would do—he'd thought that if it actually did occur, the answer would come to him when needed. And now it really was happening, and he still didn't know! Harry Potter was asking for his friendship. His friendship, only his, Draco Malfoy's! He looked up from the hand to observe the owner's vivid green eyes and dark hair sticking up in little tufts around his face; saw him biting his lip softly, anxiously. And somehow, with that look, Draco knew.

He grabbed Potter's hand and shook it firmly. "I'd like that too," he said.

Potter's eyes brightened and his lips curved up into a smile that could melt a glacier. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed. "That's—that's brilliant, great."

Draco fought the urge to mock Potter's lack of knowledgeable vocabulary and half-smiled at him. He wouldn't ruin the moment. Potter was actually... beaming at him. A genuine grin that _Draco_ had caused. He'd never thought that accepting anything from Potter would feel this good. Not even a full out, embarrassing declaration of submission could top this (although, that would still be nice).

After a few more shy smiles on Potter's part, they continued their questioning with playful conversation and light, easy banter that made Draco feel faint with the excitement of his new… friend. It was as if a heavy cloak had been lifted and they could finally breathe in fresh air. Wasn't it just positively mental? Harry Potter was Draco's _friend_.

**~x~**

Later that evening, Draco plopped down on the couch in the common room. He absently observed a couple of Fourth years playing a game of Exploding Snaps in the middle of the room, but he had little interest for them or the activity. And to be honest, Draco was still slightly too in shock by the evening's events to tell them to bugger off either. Thankfully, after a few minutes, Blaise joined him.

"Hey, where's Harry?" Blaise asked. "Didn't you just have your little session?" He waggled his eyebrows at the word 'session'.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes. He and Granger went to go visit the Weasel. Heavens knows that those bumbling Gryffindors miss their den."

Truthfully, he was a little miffed that Potter hadn't wanted to go back to Slytherin with him and spend more time together. Wasn't Draco interesting enough? But hey, now that they were friends, they could hang out whenever Draco wanted to. Weasley and Granger couldn't do anything about it, and perhaps that was the best part. Draco smiled to himself. He just couldn't get over it. Friends with Harry Potter.

Blaise made himself more comfortable on the couch and turned to face Draco. "Of course they did. So how was the session, really? Any fights? Curses? Hexes? Or worse..." Blaise's face twisted in mock horror. "Did you actually get along? Oh my, the _scandal_!"

Draco hit him with a pillow. "No, no, no, um, yes. I think we've… we've formed a truce, sort of. We're going to try to be friends." There was that word again. Draco could go to the Astronomy Tower and shout it from the balcony at this rate.

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "Really? Draco, that's fantastic. You're finally learning to play with others." He smirked.

Draco grinned, thinking of Potter's face when he'd accepted his hand. He didn't even care that Blaise could see that he was pleased. "Guess I am," he said.

At that moment, Pansy had walked in from the portrait, and upon seeing them on the couches, pranced over and jumped on Blaise's lap. "Blaise! Drake!" she chirped. "It's so good to see you both!" She ruffled Draco's hair affectionately and he swatted her hand away.

"Pansy, you know I hate that nickname. Stop using it," Draco complained. She just winked back at him.

"Pans!" Blaise cried, hugging the girl tightly around her waist. "Come to visit us, finally? I'm so pleased. One more minute alone with this fucker, I probably would have gone completely bonkers."

"Hey!" Draco exclaimed, flicking Blaise's ear. The other boy punched his shoulder.

Pansy laughed. "Merlin, I've missed you two. Gryffindor is like my own personal hell," she declared, fixing Blaise's collar absently. "They're all so… strangely accommodating. I've pulled about thirty pranks in the last week, and none of them have even attempted to prank me back. Can you believe it? And they try so hard to be _nice_ to the rest of us. Except for Weasel." She wrinkled her nose. "He's still a prat."

Draco laughed. "Yeah, that's Gryffindor for you."

Blaise grinned at him. "You would know!" he accused. "Hanging about with the pride of Gryffindor himself."

Pansy frowned. "Godric?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "No, _Harry._"

Pansy's eyes widened and she leaned in, as if this were some sort of juicy gossip she had missed out on. "Really, Drake? Oh love, that's _adorable_! I always knew you had a thing for him." She clutched his arm. "Have you made it official yet? I'm thinking you should hyphenate. Malfoy-Potter. Actually, Potter-Malfoy sounds a bit better, no offence."

"_What_?" Draco gaped at her. "It isn't like that!"

Pansy leaned back now and folded her arms across her chest. "Don't tell me he's not your boyfriend yet, Draco."

"I—No! He's not my boyfriend!" Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I don't want a _boyfriend_."

Blaise snorted. "Really?" he asked. "So I suppose you like to stare at his shirtless chest every night in a completely platonic way? Because that makes sense. It's not like you literally drool over him or anything."

"I don't drool!" Draco protested angrily.

"Potter gets shirtless?" Pansy squealed.

"Oh, Potter," Blaise moaned, mimicking Draco's distinct drawl. "Let me see that chiseled body, unngh, get _inside_ me!" He moaned again, louder. Pansy shrieked in laughter. She had actual tears streaming down her face.

Draco snarled aloud. "That's enough!" he shouted.

Blaise shrugged and grinned, repositioning himself on the couch again. "Why don't you just admit it, Draco? You want it." He waggled his brows and Pansy giggled, causing Draco to glower at the both of them again.

"You're both fucking loons," Draco grumbled, leaning back into the couch to sulk. Both of his friends ignored him and continued to banter.

**~x~**

The next morning Draco was sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast, eating and chatting with Blaise, when Dumbledore suddenly appeared at his podium. Draco put down his fork and rolled his eyes. Oh gods, what now? The Headmaster only came to the podium when he had something important to announce, and from the look in his eyes, it seemed that he did.

"Hello students," Dumbledore chirped. "I hope you are all having a lovely morning." Draco sighed. What did the barmy old coot have up his sleeve? The students immediately quieted down for the Headmaster and Dumbledore smiled at all of them. "And I hope to make it an even lovelier morning, as the professors and myself have all planned a wonderful treat for you."

Draco could see Snape roll his eyes from his spot.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "There is to be a Formal Ball this Saturday from 7 PM to midnight. It is a function for Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth year students to have a bit of fun before diving into more difficult studies." The older students tittered with excitement and Dumbledore smiled benignly. "Of course, the younger students will have a small get-together as well, but it will end at 9PM. More details will be available if you wish to ask a staff member. I wish a marvelous time on all of you."

Draco furrowed his brow. Normally, he was in the know about these "special" events before the announcements came, as Snape would inform him beforehand so that he could properly prepare for them—but there had been no word this time, and now he was caught off guard. Draco hated to be caught off guard. Why hadn't Snape told him? Draco scowled. The damned baby was sucking up all of his attention. He glared at the little bundle cradled in one of Potter's arms, hoping that it knew just how much he sacrificed for it. The price of parenthood, dear Merlin. Potter looked up and noticed Draco, giving him one of those glacier-melting smiles. Draco just looked away. He had to stop doing that.

Potter refused to be ignored and nudged him. "Sounds like fun, you going?" he asked.

Draco shrugged, still not turning his head. He knew that he was conducting improper manners, but his mother wasn't here to scold him and it was _Potter_, for Merlin's sake. He wouldn't know manners if they had sung him a tune and then slapped him in the face. "Most likely," he replied. "Are you?"

He could feel that blasted smile on the exposed side of his cheek. "Probably, yeah," Potter said.

Draco sighed as he felt Potter's gaze leave him to go back to his breakfast. Draco poked at his own eggs. Was he really going to go? Of course he was, he never missed these things. Still, the idea wasn't particularly catching his fancy at the moment. He glanced over at Pansy, who was currently arguing with Weasley, and shrugged. She would go with him; they'd always gone together and had had a sufficiently pleasant time together. Then Draco snuck another peek at Potter, who was immersed in his bacon strips by now. Potter. Who was he going to go with? Draco felt a tiny pang of jealousy at the prospect. Potter had better not take that Granger. She seemed to have been making eyes at him across the table the whole morning, and he had not discouraged her from it. Draco gritted his teeth. _I swear I'll_—

Blaise tapped him. "Ready to go?"

Draco nodded, shoving his plate away. It was just as well. He'd rather not finish that thought anyway.

**~x~**

That night, Draco sat at his desk and rearranged his homework for the next day in a neat pile, ready to pick up in the morning. It was a ritual of his, and no matter how many times Blaise and Potter made fun of him for it, Draco still did it every evening. It ensured that he wouldn't lose any of his assignments; he was a model student, after all. His two lazy friends obviously just didn't understand. He was meticulous! It was in his nature.

Just as he finished, Nott and Potter walked into the room together, talking animatedly about something or another. Draco climbed onto his bed, watching them with curiousity. Nott and Potter never conversed like that unless they were arguing—and Draco always liked a good tussle before bedtime. But after another look, Draco realised that they didn't seem to be fighting... They were just playing a game. He wilted a little in disappointment before Nott's voice found its way into his ears.

"Hey Malfoy," Nott called over. "Who do you think is more fit, Hannah Abbott or Luna Lovegood?"

Draco wrinkled his nose at Nott's question. "Is _that_ what you two are discussing?" he asked. "Honestly, get a fucking life. Anyways, I wouldn't pick either one of them. They're both horribly unappealing to me." It was true. Hannah Abbott's bulgy eyes scared him a bit and Lovegood was too... _Lovegood. _Need he say more?

Potter laughed. "Horribly unappealing?" he repeated. "That's a bit overdramatic, even for you, Malfoy." Draco scowled at him in response.

"Well, how about you then, Potter?" Nott asked. "Which would you choose?"

Potter tapped his chin. "Luna, I suppose," he answered. "She's a good friend of mine, and plus, she's got gorgeous hair." He paused and grinned at Draco. "Did you know that I have a thing for _blonds_, Malfoy?"

Draco felt himself flush and he muttered, "Ha ha, too bad you're not funny, Potter." Draco hadn't known that Potter fancied blond hair. Or did he? Perhaps he was merely pulling Draco's strings for fun. The annoying git was doing that a lot lately. But would Draco really mind if he did?

Nott waved his arms around to regain Potter's attention, which still seemed to be fixated on Draco. "Okay, I've got another one," he announced. "Parvati Patil or Hermione Granger?"

Blaise popped his head into the room, having heard the game and recognising it in a heartbeat. "I choose Patil, that girl is _fit,_" he declared. "Did you see that skirt she wore last Hogsmeade trip? I could have shagged her right then and there." Blaise grinned now. "Plus, Granger's a bitch—no offence, Harry. I can say that because she's my wife!"

Blaise flounced into the room now and high-fived Nott, who was laughing. The two ignored Potter's spluttered protests in the background. "Good one, mate!" Nott exclaimed. "I wholeheartedly agree: Patil, there's no contest. Which would you choose, Malfoy?"

Draco made a face. Why were they even including him in this nonsense? "I'll pass on this one, too," he sneered. "They're both too Gryffindor for me." Although it was true that Parvati had a pretty face and a fantastic body, there was something about her that Draco just didn't find _attractive_. It was strange how his tendencies changed so quickly—before this year, he probably would've picked her in a heartbeat. And besides, Granger... just _no._

"Harry!" Blaise shouted. "Your turn!"

Potter was climbing onto the bed next to Draco now. He seemed to be getting a bit tired. "Hermione, obviously, since she's my best friend and all," Potter said, shrugging. "Besides, you guys don't know Parvati. She's sort of clueless."

Draco felt that pang of jealousy again and his lip curled in disgust. Why couldn't Potter just act like a proper bloke for once and say Patil? Anybody with eyes could see that she was a hell of a lot more _developed_ than Granger. Why did it matter that Patil was sort of an idiot? Trust Potter to take the sentimental choice.

Nott seemed to think the same thing. He snorted. "We're not asking who your best friend is, Potter, we're asking who's more _fit_. Merlin."

Potter glared at Blaise and Nott when they both started cackling. "Oh, come on!" he argued. "Hermione isn't a bitch. She's my_ friend_, and I would choose her over anybody any day. She's gotten me out of a lot of horrible things in the past!"

"Oh Merlin, now _that_ makes her really fit!" Blaise hooted, now doubled over and clutching his stomach with laughter.

"Yeah, I'm sure she's gotten you _out_ of a lot of things, because you sure as hell haven't gotten anything _in_!" Nott added with a choked gasp. He was practically having a seizure rolling around on the ground.

Potter puffed up his chest in mock defiance. "Fine, she's fit too, you twats," he yelled. "Now shut the fuck up!"

With that, Blaise threw a pillow at Potter and now they were all laughing hysterically—except for Draco. He frowned and lay down, turning his back to them and glaring at the floor. Potter thought that _Granger_ was fit? What sort of blind prat was he? It was so obvious that he was completely mad for her. Draco clenched his teeth. Why did it even matter anyway? Perfect Potter could go fancy whomever his perfect self wanted to. Draco didn't care at all. He didn't even turn and watch when Potter took off his shirt before falling asleep. That was how much Draco did not fucking care.

**~x~**

When Draco woke up again, it was dark and still nighttime. He sighed, snuggling deeper under the sheets, trying to savour the warmth and will himself back to sleep. Mmmm. He was so comfortable, he could almost feel the warmth enveloping him—wait, no. Draco's eyes shot open. He could _actually_ feel warmth enveloping him! He twitched his hand, now confirming that there was something brushing against it. Was it Rebecca? She didn't normally feel this soft. Draco sat up, confused. But when he saw what the source of the warmth was, he almost wished that he hadn't. Almost.

Potter was sprawled out on his side of the bed, his sleeping form illuminated by the sharp contrast to the deep green bed curtains. The blankets were shoved down to his waist, exposing miles and miles of smooth, unblemished skin. His lips were parted ever so slightly and his hair was splattered across his forehead, dark and tangled, just barely covering the famous scar. And most important of all, his hand was stretched out towards Draco, a few of his fingers latching onto Draco's palm. _Holding_ it.

Draco gulped, hard. The only thing that would make this picture more captivating would be if Potter's emerald eyes were staring back at him. Gods, Potter was warm! Draco looked down and saw that their hands were still touching and Potter's little finger had curved around his thumb. Draco couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. What was this? He looked down at himself. Oh fuck, he was so turned on right now. By hand-holding!

Draco shook his head frantically. No, no! He didn't look at blokes, and he certainly did not look at Harry Potter! Well… maybe he did… But he fancied girls, loads of them—Draco felt his stomach twist as he compared his reaction of Parvati Patil to the one he had just now of Potter. He felt a pang of realisation. Of course he found her unappealing; she didn't have the right… _parts_. Draco shuddered. Okay, so maybe he had looked at other blokes before. There's nothing wrong with that, right? Draco knew that even his father had a period of "experimentation". It didn't mean that Draco was suddenly having a huge, momentous change of heart—especially not for Potter! He forced himself to look away from the sleeping angel beside him, even when his treacherous fingers closed themselves around Potter's.

"I do not fancy you," Draco whispered aloud. Potter shifted a bit in his sleep, causing Draco to freeze. But Potter continued to snore lightly and Draco wiggled back down to his pillow, where he lay stiffly for a few minutes.

"I do not fancy him," he murmured again, as he drifted off. "I do not fancy Harry fucking Potter."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: I'm all about the slow romantic build-up. Bear with me! Still Draco's POV.**

Chapter 11

Draco had awoken that morning irritable and tired, having spent the remainder of the night mulling over his newly discovered sexuality. He had come to realise that yes, he definitely fancied blokes over girls, and yes, only blokes seemed to do it for him. Merlin. Draco could hardly wrap his head around it. But after spending half of his night dreaming about male Quidditch players rather than the Beauxbatons girls, it was a slightly less ridiculous notion than it had been a few hours ago. Draco sighed and got out of bed, careful not to look at Potter as he did. Well, he supposed that he would have to tell Blaise and Pansy the news—as if they'd be surprised. When breakfast came, Draco's assumption was confirmed.

"Pansy," Draco had said, over toast. "I'm gay."

"Are you now?" Pansy asked. She hadn't been looking at him though; she was spreading butter on her muffin.

Blaise sat down next to Draco. "Good morning. How is everyone?"

"Fine," Pansy had said, before Draco could even open his mouth. "Except that we're all out of strawberry jam." She paused. "Oh, and Draco has just told us that he's gay."

Blaise had raised his brows. "Fantastic. When do you think they're going to get more jam?"

**~x~**

Over the next couple of days, Draco had noticed that Potter seemed to be making an increasing amount of appearances wherever Draco went—most likely in attempt to get to know him better or something. Gods, it was aggravating to no end. Since his revelation, Draco had been having little, involuntary surges of attraction whenever Potter was around. It was humiliating! Honestly, it wasn't _Draco's_ fault that Potter was exceptionally good-looking, was it? No. So why was he being punished for it? Potter's constant presence was certainly not a help, but it wasn't as if Draco could just tell him to bugger off because he was having an identity crisis of sorts. Potter would think that Draco had gone bonkers. Although, that wasn't too far off the mark. Perhaps he had.

At the moment, Draco was studying in the library. Or, 'studying'. He had really come here to hide from Potter and perhaps get a bit of light reading done, but of course, the relief was short-lived and thus was the reason for his tirade. Because just as he was about to pull out a novel, Draco had heard that familiar voice calling out his name and cringed. How perfect was that? He turned around now and gritted his teeth at the sight of Potter who was, once again, appearing at Draco's desk. And he didn't look as if he was just going to pass by. Bloody hell. Potter never fucking gave up.

"Hey, I've been looking all over for you," Potter chirped, plopping down in the chair across from him. Draco tried not to sneer; it was an old habit. He pursed his lips instead.

"Well, you found me," he answered curtly, flicking his gaze to the Potions book lying open in front of him. He had just thrown it open to this page when he'd originally sat down, and so he had no idea what was on it. Still, he perused it as if it were the most interesting thing ever.

Potter smiled, ignoring Draco's blatant hints for him to _go away_. "I just wanted to let you know that Blaise is taking care of Rebecca today," Potter informed him. "He said that it would help him attract all the ladies or some rubbish like that."

Draco couldn't help himself. He smiled a little. "Blaise is going to need a lot more help than that," he quipped.

Potter laughed. "That's what I told him... And then he made me leave the room, and so now I'm here. Want to go outside? It's lovely."

Draco looked out the window wistfully. The clouds were sparse and the sky was positively cerulean: a rare colour in Scotland at this time of year; the sunshine was a beautiful shade of golden—a hue coincidentally similar to that of Potter's skin tone. Well... maybe it wouldn't hurt. Potter was right, it was a rather lovely day outside. But wait... wasn't he trying to avoid Potter? Draco shook his head both at the thought and the question directed at him. "No thanks," he remarked. "I have a lot of work to do."

Potter rolled his eyes. "No you don't. We didn't even have any homework for Potions." He gestured at the book and then at the window. "Just look. For fuck's sake, Malfoy, loosen up! You're always doing work. You know that you want to go outside with me."

Draco eyed him disdainfully. Well, was it his fault that he wanted to get ahead? Draco had always been quite studious; he enjoyed being the top of his classes (aside from Granger, but hey, there was no hope in that cause) and he was fascinated with most of the subjects. But he looked at the clock on the wall, and then at his conveniently placed textbook, and sighed. He wasn't planning on doing anything else after he was done pretending to study. And the thought of going outside—even with Potter—was far more appealing than sitting inside and sulking for the rest of the day. Draco shrugged.

Fine, you've convinced me," he said, and then stood up to wave towards the door. "You can lead the way, Potter."

The dark haired boy grinned and got up too, immediately making a beeline for the library exit and not stopping at the castle steps. Merlin, Potter was quick—Draco jogged a bit behind him, having a difficult time keeping up. Potter didn't slow down until they'd reached a small area shaded by trees and covered in lush green grass, and upon arrival, Potter plopped down by the trunk of a tree to soak up the warmth of the afternoon sun. Draco joined him warily.

"I told you it was lovely," Potter remarked, lying on his back now and gazing up at the nearly cloudless sky with a dreamy expression on his face. "I live for days like these."

Draco inspected the other boy appreciatively as he closed his eyes and went silent. Fine, Potter was bloody fucking fit; Draco could admit it. With that golden skin and those green eyes... even Potter's ratty hair had a certain charm that Draco couldn't put his finger on. But so what? Draco didn't have to be ashamed of having these feelings about Potter. There was certainly nothing wrong with just _looking_, if Potter didn't catch him at it. Draco watched Potter's mouth curve up into a smile, perhaps unconsciously on the Gryffindor's part, and smiled himself. For all the hardships and death and terror Potter had experienced in his life, the boy was exceptionally optimistic. Before he'd spent time with Potter, Draco had believed that it had been a front to keep up the image and responsibility of being "the Saviour" and "the Boy Who Lived", but he was discovering that Potter was genuinely that way.

Draco was a bit jealous, mostly because he himself would never be like that again, no matter how hard he tried. Draco didn't like to admit it, but Potter was stronger than him, emotionally and physically, and he could handle more than Draco could. Obviously, Potter had seen and experienced much worse things than Draco had, and yet, here he was, lying on the grass and smiling to himself as if the world was smiling with him. Potter was just _that_ boy. There was this certain innocence that radiated out of him—it wasn't a naïve sort of innocence, because he wasn't naïve in the slightest. It was just pure and strong and unwavering. It made Draco feel good, made him want to do good things when he was around Potter. He shuddered. What the fuck kind of friendship was that?

"Erm, Malfoy?"

Draco had hardly noticed that Potter had opened his eyes and sat up during his rambling thoughts. He refocused again, and now Potter was staring at him with a perplexed look. Damn. Draco blushed, realising that he had been mooning over Potter rather obviously.

"Uh, yes?" he asked.

He felt Potter studying him for a moment longer before turning back to face the sky. "Nothing," Potter said. "I was just looking at the clouds and it reminded me of the Patronus charm for a moment. Have you got one? I don't reckon I've ever seen it."

Draco sighed in gratitude when Potter changed the subject, but then he realised what the subject actually was. He tried not to flush. "Er..." he mumbled intelligently. Fucking Potter. Draco had to regain his composure, damn it. "That's... none of your business."

At the defiance, Potter looked at Draco and raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" he asked. "And why isn't it?"

Draco was pinned for a moment when Potter's emerald eyes flashed, the same colour as the surrounding grass and scenery to enhance them. "Well... I just. I just don't fancy it much. It's a bit embarrassing, to be honest."

Potter leaned in with interest. "Embarrassing? I've got to know now. Ron loves to hear your embarrassing stories."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're mature."

"Oh, I was joking. Come on, tell me."

"No. You've broken my trust."

"I said I was joking—"

"So am I. Gods, Potter, calm yourself."

Potter scowled. "You're no more mature than I am. Tell me what your fucking Patronus is."

Draco sneered at him. "I would suggest that you find some fucking manners first and ask _politely,_" he countered.

"Malfoy!"

"Fine," Draco snapped, his temper rising quickly. "It's a goddamned ferret! Go on, laugh, I know you want to. Ha ha, yes, it's me, Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret!"

Curiously, Potter didn't laugh at all. He didn't even smile. His mouth twitched a bit, but Draco was genuinely surprised at how much self-control Potter was showing. To Potter's credit, he _was_ trying not to react like Draco had thought he would. Well that was... considerate. It was more than Draco would ever hope for. In the end, Potter just gave him a clipped nod.

"Ferrets are nice," he said. That was it. Draco was just grateful that he didn't have to hex the daylights out of the prat this time.

**~x~**

Potter had challenged him to wizard chess. That had been his first mistake. Everybody knew that Draco was the champion at the game, and of course, thus resulted in a crushing defeat for Potter. Promptly after losing, Potter had sulked and informed Draco that Weasley could whoop his arse at chess. Of course, that had been Potter's second mistake, and he was paying for that one with a small burn on his inner forearm (compliments of Draco's own impressive hex work). Honestly, the Weasel beating _Draco_ at something? He snorted. He highly doubted that. After a few minutes of demanding and then complaining and lastly, glaring, the two boys were now sitting beside the fireplace, Draco in his armchair and Potter on the couch next to it, cradling Rebecca. It was strangely comfortable. Draco almost felt as if it had been their routine for years.

"So," Potter said after a while. "Did you decide if you were going to go this Saturday?"

Draco frowned. "Go where?"

Potter raised an eyebrow and bounced the baby doll gently. "The Formal Ball."

Draco hadn't asked Pansy yet, but she had mentioned it to him and he was planning on posing the question soon. But why did Potter want to know about that? Draco would have thought that Potter loathed the idea of school functions. He always seemed to in the past. "Yes, I am." Out of pure curiosity, he looked at Potter. "What about you?" he asked.

Potter gazed at the fire. "Yeah."

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed Blaise sitting down at a different couch near them. He was definitely close enough to hear their conversation; the conniving Slytherin knew that Draco knew this as well. Blaise smirked and winked at him from behind the novel he was holding for additional proof. Draco turned away from him and refocused on Potter. So the Gryffindor was going to attend the Ball, then. Interesting. Draco just really hoped that Potter wasn't thinking of going to the Ball with Granger. Honestly, if Draco wanted to experience another hormonal tornado, he'd have just asked Potter to take his shirt off again. Still, he had to know if Granger was an option.

"So... are you taking Granger?" Draco inquired, trying his best to sound detached.

Potter looked up at him, seeming surprised by the question. "No, she's going with Ron," he answered, as if it were obvious. "I've asked Luna."

Draco let out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Perhaps the blundering redhead oaf would distract Granger from Potter, at least for the moment. Draco didn't even want to think about the reason why he hoped for that. "Oh. That's good," he said. "I'm going to ask Pansy."

Potter nodded. "Yeah, I thought as much," he remarked. "I'm hoping it will be all right. I don't normally fancy going to these things, but it is our last year, so..."

Draco tilted his head. "It should be fine. Besides, I heard that Finnigan and Thomas are going to supply Firewhiskey for the punch."

Potter grinned. "You heard correctly," he declared.

"That's not very Gryffindor of them," Draco mused. "Aren't you lot all about virtue and goodness and shit?"

Potter laughed at that. "Yes, but aren't _you_ lot all about mischief and rudeness and shit?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow at him. Touché. He was starting to realise more and more these days that Potter's sense of humour was not much different than his own—Draco didn't know whether to be horrified or comforted by that. "Don't forget the art of the smirk," he insisted.

Potter's eyes were filled with mirth. "The_ art_… of the smirk...?" he asked, incredulously. "I thought that was just a Malfoy thing, not a Slytherin thing."

"It is. It's patented."

Potter tried smirking at him. "Am I doing it right?"

"Oh god no, Potter. What did I just tell you?"

Potter shot him a winning smile now. "I don't know," he teased. "I was too busy being_ better_ than you. At everything."

Draco couldn't help grinning back at him. He slapped Potter's cheek in mock punishment.

"Fuck you. I beat you at chess."

**~x~**

Draco entered the bathroom, expecting to freshen up a little and perhaps get a bit of much-needed alone time—hanging out with Potter and the boys was entertaining, of course, but Draco could only handle so much company. However, Blaise was already inside, and he leaped for the door before Draco could turn around and escape. With the other boy blocking his way, Draco scowled and turned back to the sinks. Well, there went his alone time. He picked up his toothbrush and vowed to ignore his friend. Of course, Blaise wasn't one to be ignored.

"Hi, mate," Blaise said, greeting Draco as if he hadn't just cornered him in the bathroom. Draco snorted. How casual. "I feel like we don't get to talk much. How are things with you?"

"They're fantastic," Draco commented expressionlessly. "What about you, _mate_?"

"Fabulous."

Draco rolled his eyes and began brushing his teeth, attempting to avoid further conversation. Blaise didn't take the hint, because well, frankly, he hadn't wanted to. "So, you and Harry were talking earlier," he noted. "That's nice."

"I'm allowed to talk to him, you know," Draco remarked. "We _are_ friends now."

"Not to mention husbands."

Draco spit out his toothpaste vigorously and gave his friend a dry look. "What's your point?" he asked.

Blaise just grinned. "I wonder how Harry feels about Granger. Don't you?" Blaise pretended to ponder over it.

Draco glared at him. "Who cares?"

"You do."

"I do not!"

"Oh yeah?" Blaise smirked. "Why did you ask him specifically about her, then? Just admit it, Draco, you're jealous."

Draco sneered at him. "I am not fucking jealous of Granger. That is ridiculous."

Blaise laughed. "Sure you aren't," he teased. "But if you _were_, I'd just have to let you know that you would have nothing to worry about anyways. A little birdie told me that Granger has a thing for Weasley, not Harry."

Draco had never thought about that possibility. It wasn't as if he'd really cared about the trio and their stupid love triangles before. He didn't know why he was even worrying about it now. Was he? Draco shook his head. He supposed that it was plausible that Granger _could_ fancy Weasel-brain, but even if she did, she'd probably fancy Potter more. Honestly, Draco would. But who wouldn't? Potter was so fit and Weasley was—well, Draco wasn't even going to analyse _that_.

"Just because I'm gay, doesn't mean that I'm going to go after every attractive male I see," he insisted. He put down his toothbrush and splashed both his face and mouth with water.

Blaise raised his hands in mock defeat. "Okay, okay, you've made your point. You think that Harry is attractive."

Draco balked. "That was not my point!"

"Well, that's what I got from it. He's pretty, isn't he? Pretty Potter." Blaise laughed at his own weak joke. Draco gave him The Glare, his harshest look, and Blaise finally moved away from the door. Draco threw it open and stalked out of the bathroom, his friend trailing behind him.

Potter was in bed—oh bloody hell, with his shirt already off—by the time that the boys had reentered the room. Draco felt his ears go hot while Blaise smirked at him. Luckily, Potter didn't even glance up from the Quidditch magazine he was reading to witness Draco's pathetic expression.

"Hey, guys," Potter greeted, still not looking. "How was the washroom? Eventful?"

Draco's ears were still burning. "More than you know," he muttered.

Potter made a face at his page. "Too much information, Malfoy."

"Oh Draco, you silly git," Blaise said loudly, giving Potter an appreciative once-over before whispering to Draco, "we _should_ call him pretty Potter, shouldn't we? It could be his new nickname."

"What?" Potter looked up from the magazine upon hearing his name. He was frowning.

"Just Blaise talking _nonsense_, it's nothing," Draco remarked, glaring at his friend. Nothing could stop Blaise when he was on a mission, though. And tonight, his mission appeared to be humiliating the hell out of Draco.

"Nonsense!" Blaise cried. "Really, Harry, I was just commenting on how fit you are. Draco, what was that word you used again? Ah, that's right. Attractive."

Potter raised an eyebrow at Draco. "You think that I'm attractive?" he asked.

"Especially when you haven't got a jumper on," Blaise added gleefully.

Now Draco's cheeks were turning scarlet as well. His face had obtained a permanent flush around Potter; so fiery that it would make a Weasley proud. He stuttered his protests. "I never said such a thing!" he argued.

"You did! You said that merely five minutes ago!"

"Fuck off, Zabini!" Draco shouted.

Blaise just beamed at a stunned, but now amused-looking Potter. "He's just shy. And Draco, there's nothing wrong with appreciating beauty, Merlin's _beard_—" He was interrupted by a flurry of objects now being hurled at him by the blond.

"Potter, I swear, I didn't say anything like that," Draco insisted, still throwing things at Blaise. His friend was on the ground now, tears rolling down his face from laughter. Draco kicked his side, hard. "I mean, Blaise took it completely out of context—"

"Shut up!" Nott screamed, from inside his bed curtains. "I am trying to get some fucking sleep!"

Everybody ignored him. Draco silently glared at the floor.

"It's okay, Malfoy," Potter remarked after a few moments, now chuckling along with Blaise. Well, apparently the Gryffindor seemed to think that they were joking around. Wow. Draco didn't know whether to feel relieved that Potter was such an oblivious idiot, or frustrated that Potter was_ such_ an oblivious idiot. Either way, it appeared that he was safe. For now.

"Whatever. I'm going to sleep," Draco retorted, climbing up onto the bed next to Potter and being extra careful not to squish Rebecca as he did.

"Goodnight, Draco," Blaise exclaimed.

"Shut the fuck up!" Both Nott and Draco said at the same time.

The lights were out in a matter of minutes, and Draco was immensely relieved for the cloak of darkness. At least nobody could see the expression of mortification on his face now. Merlin, he was going to murder Blaise for real this time. No, for real. The boy would pay. Draco shifted on his pillow and frowned. What was that warm feeling on his face...?

"Gah!" he whisper-shouted. Potter was looming over him like a shadowed blob. It was all Draco could do not to slap him across the face. What the fuck was his problem?

"Sorry," Potter muttered back. The heat from his body emanated off of him like flames in the fireplace.

Draco winced. "Go back to your spot. You're making me all hot."

Potter shifted away, but then paused. "I could put my shirt back on, Malfoy," he offered. "I didn't know that it bothered you so much."

Draco glared at him, even though he knew Potter couldn't see him through the veil of darkness. "It doesn't bother me, Potter," Draco snapped. "Blaise was just being an idiot. And for the record, I didn't say that I thought you were attractive."

Potter was quiet for a moment. "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Think that I'm... attractive."

Draco paused. Again, he was glad for the darkness, because Potter couldn't see the look on his face now. "I suppose you're all right," he muttered.

Draco could practically see the smile on Potter's face. "Thanks, I think. Night," Potter whispered.

Draco mumbled something back. Honestly, Potter was such a git for asking that. Did he really _need_ the reassurance that he was bloody fucking fit? Draco rolled his eyes. And Blaise was an insufferable bastard—that was two for two. Draco buried his face into his pillow, trying to subdue his embarrassment. Damn. What was it about Potter that made him feel so incompetent? He was a Malfoy, for Merlin's sake! Malfoys were imperturbable, clever, and always, always, _always_ in control. And Potter… was simply a git. Draco's eyes fluttered shut. But as he drifted off into sleep, he couldn't help feeling a tiny twinge of hope that he and Potter would end up holding hands again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Thank you guys for the reviews! I love all of your reactions. I appreciate everything and I love you all for it! Draco's POV.**

Chapter 12

Draco sighed. He drummed his fingers against his thigh anxiously and tried to look interested as he pretended to listen to Blaise, Potter and the Weasel banter about who-knows-or-cares-what. Why was he in here anyways? What the hell had he been thinking? Draco had allowed himself to be sacrificed into enemy territory, that's what it was—_trickery_, damn it! Draco glanced around at his surroundings with distaste. The Gryffindor common room was garishly red and it made him want to hurl.

Blaise was laughing really hard. Draco glared at the back of his friend's head, annoyed that the boy had dragged him into this. Of course, Potter had been the one to suggest that Blaise and Draco come visit Gryffindor with him, with the argument that they should all acquaint themselves with each other as new friends. Draco had protested vehemently, of course, but Blaise had kicked him and replied that they would both love to go. And so now here they were, Blaise giggling along with the Gryffindors, and Draco feeling completely and utterly out of place. Honestly, he had been surprised that the Weasel was so calm about the visit, not even attempting to throw any insults at them—the redhead opted to shoot Blaise the occasional tight smile and ignore Draco completely. Draco was fine with that, but... it was strange how well Blaise was getting along with Potter and Weasley, laughing with them as if they were all old friends. Draco raised an eyebrow. It was a wonder that Blaise hadn't been Sorted into Gryffindor first year. He would've made a good one.

Potter suddenly poked Draco, bringing him out of his thoughts. "Hey Malfoy," Potter said. "Ron wanted me to ask you how good Pansy Parkinson was—_what_?" The Weasel had interrupted by punching Potter's arm, his face pink. Potter was grinning. "You said to go ahead!"

Weasley looked as if he were choking a bit; his face had become a shade close to that of an overripe tomato. "Merlin's balls, Harry, I didn't mean it!" he exclaimed.

Potter just chuckled at that and turned back to Draco, eyes sparkling. "Well?" he asked.

Draco grimaced. He and Pansy had never been in a romantic relationship; he had never looked at her as anything but a close friend. At first, they'd become friendlier with one another for public image and their families' wishes, but now, it was just second nature, and both he and Pansy had grown much too comfortable with their arrangement to stop or change anything. Anyway, Draco was a virgin. But he wasn't about to tell Potter and Weasel that—like they needed to know.

"That's none of your business, Potter... And neither yours, Weasley," Draco retorted, perhaps a bit too coolly. Weasley bristled and Draco suddenly regretted his response.

Blaise cleared his throat, breaking the almost-tension. "Draco and Pans aren't in that sort of relationship," he explained. "They've always been friends." Draco smiled gratefully at Blaise. Who had ever said that Slytherins didn't have each other's backs? "Besides..." Blaise was smirking now. "I'd say it's just as well. She's too _feminine_ for him."

Potter and Weasley each looked perplexed from Blaise's little hint, but Draco was fuming. The fucking prick. Leave it to Blaise to dangle his Gryffindor side in Draco's face just to pull a stunt like this, reminding Draco which House Blaise was really meant to be in. _For good reason_, Draco thought bitterly.

"Feminine?" asked Weasley, clearly still befuddled. "Obviously. She's a _girl_."

Blaise's smirk grew. "She is, isn't she?"

Potter stared at Draco.

Draco gulped. "She's just not my type, all right?" he justified. "What is the big deal?"

Potter raised his eyebrows. "What_ is_ your type then, Malfoy?" he asked.

Before Draco could say anything, Blaise cut in. "Draco just likes his partners more, let's say, defined... Chiseled, if you will. I'm talking about a _body_. And he's got a thing for dark hair and gre—"

"You can shut the hell up now, Blaise, I think they've got the picture," Draco snapped, interrupting before Blaise could embarrass him further, if that was even possible. Why? If he had let that sentence go on for just a moment longer... Gods, his life would be over. Potter would murder him. Draco wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear, his heart was thumping loudly in his chest—and that damned flush was already forming, he could feel it.

Blaise just laughed. "Okay, Drake," he cooed, using Draco's hated nickname. Draco gave him The Glare. _Fuck you, Blaise._

"Um, anyways," Weasley piped up, looking uncomfortable.

This was his chance to transition the subject elsewhere. Draco gave Weasley a clipped nod. "You going to the Ball tonight, Wease—Er, Weasley?" he inquired.

Weasley paused and appeared shocked that Draco had acknowledged him, but he nodded all the same. "Yeah, I'm going with Hermione," the redhead announced, looking proud of himself for some reason. Draco could see Potter smiling for his friend. Hm. Well, he already knew that Potter was going with Luna Lovegood and they all obviously knew he was going with Pansy. He frowned. He had yet to ask Blaise if he was going, but since he was still furious at the boy he decided not to, at least right now.

Luckily, Potter was a curious lad. "Who are you going with, Blaise?" Potter asked.

Blaise just grinned. "I'm going dateless. You beat me to the punch, Draco, asking Pansy!" He pretended to sulk. But of course, he was fully aware that Draco had always taken Pansy to school functions, as he if had an unspoken claim on her. They all knew that. Draco just shrugged. He was still mad. Blaise would need to grovel.

Potter looked at his Muggle watch and shook his head. "Oh shit, speaking of, we've got to get up. The Ball's in an hour."

Draco practically bolted towards the door. "One hour?" he shouted. "That's hardly enough time!"

"Calm down, Malfoy," Weasley remarked, although he looked close to laughing. "All you've got to do is throw on your dress robes."

Draco stared at him for a moment. "Are you serious right now?"

Potter laughed. "You should see him get ready in the morning. It's not a hairstyle... It's a_ lifestyle_," he teased. Weasley and Blaise chuckled along with him.

"Go ahead and laugh, Potter," Draco scoffed. "This hair doesn't just _happen_, you know; it takes skill and time, neither of which you would know anything about. You don't even own a hairbrush, for Merlin's sake. Won't you at least let me buy you one?"

"Nope," Potter answered cheerfully.

Draco scowled at him, and the other boys just snickered.

"Fine," Draco sniffed. "Just go ahead and show up looking like a prat. See if I care."

**~x~**

Approximately one hour and twenty-three minutes later, Draco was heading down the steps to the Great Hall where the Formal Ball was to be held, Pansy on his arm and Blaise on his other side (Blaise had done his apologising back at the dorm and Draco had grudgingly accepted it. No matter how badly Blaise had embarrassed him, he could never stay mad at the wanker for long). Draco grinned as he saw many heads turn at their arrival. They looked fantastic, no doubt. Slytherins never delivered any less.

They complimented each other perfectly. Blaise donned rich, dark green robes, and Pansy wore in a silver floor-length gown with a plunging neckline. Draco himself was wearing sleek onyx dress robes that his mother had picked out for him a while back... He had never worn it before, but it fit like a glove and was both tasteful and alluring at the same time—he noticed a couple of Hufflepuff girls looking him over and blushing. He smirked. Yeah, he looked good in his dress robes. Honestly, how could he not? Dress robes were simply the high aristocracy of wizard apparel. But of course, the barmy Headmaster had allowed Muggle formal wear with the argument that as long as the attire was appropriate, students could wear whatever they wished to. Draco thought that this was ridiculous. Who wouldn't want to wear dress robes? He wrinkled his nose distastefully as he studied a Sixth year wearing a so-called tuxedo... So faux pas.

Pansy glanced over as well. "Distracted, Draco?" she inquired.

"Not at all," he muttered, shaking his head. "There is absolutely no one on this planet that could make that Muggle atrocity look appealing."

Blaise snorted. "You've spoken too soon," he remarked. "Look."

As soon as Draco glanced up, he knew that Blaise had been right. Because there was Potter, all decked out in a form-fitting black Muggle tuxedo and a slim green tie around his neck. His cheeks were glowing and his hair looked as if he had attempted to tame it but had given up halfway through. Oh, fuck... Potter cleaned up well. Draco swallowed, hard—How could Potter make something so simple look... _sexy_?

Pansy followed his gaze and smirked. "Still an atrocity?"

Draco didn't even look at her, refusing to tear his gaze away from Potter. "Absolutely," he breathed.

Just then Potter glanced around, noticing Pansy, Blaise, and Draco in the crowd. He grinned immediately and waved at them before unlinking his arm from Lovegood's and heading over to where they were all standing—Draco squirmed at the sight of Potter's legs in those trousers; he was glad that his robes billowed away from his body. When he reached them, Potter nodded at Blaise and Pansy before turning to face Draco with a beatific smile.

"I see you've worked on your hair," he remarked, gesturing at Draco's head.

Draco tried not to smile. "I see you haven't," he countered.

Potter laughed. "That's not fair," he argued. "I did try."

"Oh really? With what hairbrush?"

Potter almost smirked. "Yours."

"You've let your mangy locks touch my brush?" Draco exclaimed, scandalised. "Fantastic. I'm going to have to burn that now, thanks."

"You're welcome," Potter teased. Then he gave Pansy a once-over and shot her a polite smile. "By the way, you look beautiful, Parkinson."

Pansy smirked at him, but Draco could tell that she was pleased. "Don't I know it, Potter?" Pansy quipped. "You want this."

Potter laughed. "Maybe."

"What about me?" Blaise piped up. "Don't I look beautiful as well?"

"Gorgeous," Potter assured him. Blaise grinned.

Lovegood walked up then and took Potter by the arm, gazing about dreamily. Draco resisted the urge to snort. "Come on, Harry and friends," Lovegood said. "Let us go in together."

Luckily, neither Pansy or Blaise (or Draco) had snickered at the girl. Potter and Lovegood led the way while Draco held Pansy by the waist; Blaise trailed behind with Finnigan and Thomas. As soon as they walked in, Draco felt the music pulsing throughout the room, his temples already throbbing from the work. He inspected the area—well, it looked like the typical school function. Potter shouted something over the music about sitting down, and soon, they were all gathered about a table of drinks, laughing. After about an hour of conversing with Potter and the Gryffindors, Draco was surprised when Pansy pulled him up to dance. He hadn't even realised that she and Blaise had left.

Pansy led him to the dance floor and immediately took him by the hips, swaying to the music. "Why are you still sitting there with all of them?" she hissed. "It's time to get a move on."

Draco eyed her. "You don't usually ask me to dance with you."

"I don't mean with _me_," Pansy responded, as if it were obvious. "I meant with Potter."

"Oh sure," Draco retorted. "Shall I also pen 'I'm a fucking queer' in black ink on my forehead?"

"Ha, ha," Pansy deadpanned. She ground her body against his. "I'm serious. Don't you wonder if he can dance?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "He can't. We both saw him at the Yule Ball."

Pansy grinned. "People learn, Draco. Give him some credit. Wait here."

Before Draco could protest, Pansy had dropped her arms and scurried off into the crowd of oscillating bodies. Draco scowled and looked at his feet. There was no way that he was going to dance with Potter in front of all of these people. Of course, he could do nothing about stopping Pansy now; she was on a warpath, and Draco knew her well enough not to cross her on one of those... But it didn't mean that he had to dance. He wouldn't.

"Draco!" He whirled around. Pansy was back, now with Potter and Lovegood. "I've brought a surprise!" she exclaimed.

Potter looked uncomfortable. "I'm not a good dancer," he protested. It was clear that he had been aptly persuaded to get up and join them on the dance floor. Draco tried not to grin. It was so typical Potter. He had to wonder just how Pansy had gotten the couple to follow her there.

"Oh, just trust me, Potter," Pansy remarked. She grabbed onto his hand, and then Draco's. "Follow us."

Draco (reluctantly) sidled up next to both Pansy and Potter as an upbeat pop song began to play. Potter seemed to eye Lovegood enviously, as she was in her own little world fluttering her hands and arms about a little ways away from them, as they all swayed in unison. Draco silently cursed Pansy for dragging him into this. It was embarrassing! The surrounding sea of people made it difficult for them to stay in a group, but at least it had made it less obvious that they were dancing together like this—Draco would suspect that they looked rather foolish at the moment.

"See? It's not so hard," Pansy encouraged. "Just go with the music."

Potter didn't have rhythm. He didn't have grace. His dancing was utterly dismal... But by Merlin, somehow, Draco still thought it attractive. Damn it. He hoped that his palm wasn't sweating... As if on cue, Pansy let go of both of their hands, and ever so casually (except Draco had noticed), she began to grind a bit away from them. Potter hadn't seemed to realise it, though, and he was still looking at his feet, most likely counting in his head.

Draco could hardly believe that he was so close to another boy right now, their bodies moving in sync with the music. Potter's hip brushed against Draco's thigh in reminder every so often, gently, and he bit his lip. Fucking hell. Somehow the music had slowed down in tempo in his brain, and they were pressed up against each other; warm, rough, tense. Draco gulped—damn his raging hormones. The urges were already beginning to take over his thoughts. But of course, Draco knew that it wasn't _Potter_ that was causing them, that was for certain.

As if the band had read his mind, the music actually began to get slower and slower, until it was close to that of a formal ballroom tune. Draco froze as people began to pair up and wrap their arms around each other, and now, it was painfully obvious that he and Potter were the only two on the dance floor that weren't doing the same. Awkward. Draco looked at Potter, who had glanced up from his feet at the change of tempo, with an expression of surprise on his face. Draco wondered whether or not Potter had realised that he had been dancing with Draco and not Pansy. They stared at each other for a few moments before Potter looked towards the door.

"It's getting a bit stuffy in here," he remarked. "Perhaps we should go outside for a moment."

"What?" Draco asked loudly.

"Merlin, you can hardly hear anything over this music," Potter complained, but a smile was blooming on his face now. "I said, let's go outside!"

"What did you say?" Draco teased. He was grateful for the lighter mood.

"Just follow me, you prat," Potter said, and Draco laughed.

They walked out of the double doors and down the corridor into the courtyard, Potter leading the way and staring up at the large, luminous moon in the sky. Draco watched his eyes widen and light up at the sight.

"Merlin. So beautiful," Potter observed, never taking his gaze from it.

"Yeah. Beautiful," Draco agreed, staring at Potter instead.

They stopped at a small bench and Potter suddenly sat down and patted the cold stone beside him for Draco. Draco made a face, but he sat down anyways. They were silent for awhile. The courtyard wasn't empty at this time, but Potter had picked a rather secluded area away from the snogging couples, and it was quiet enough so that they could still hear the blasting music from the Hall. Draco was grateful for that, at least.

"Thanks for teaching me how to dance," Potter said, breaking the silence.

Draco looked at him and shrugged. "It wasn't me, it was Pansy."

Potter gave him an odd look, as if Draco had said something absurd. "She left after about a minute." He paused. "Or didn't you notice?"

Draco fought the urge to cringe and leave. "Of course I did," he muttered.

Potter was quiet again. He leaned back on his hands and let his head fall back to face the sky once more. Draco didn't understand it, how Potter was the way that he was. He really didn't. Potter never seemed to let the uncomfortable things get to him like Draco always did; it was strange. Maybe it was a Gryffindor thing? Or maybe it was just Potter. It was always just Potter... He was rather mature for his age.

"Do you remember the other day when I asked you about your Patronus?" Potter blurted again.

Draco frowned. "I'd rather not."

Potter turned his head and gazed at Draco with half-lidded eyes. "I know that it's a touchy subject, but I just wanted you to know that I don't think it's funny that your Patronus is a ferret. I'm sorry that I laughed when you got turned into one."

Draco snorted. "Don't lie, you thought it was hilarious," he said.

Potter cracked a smile. "I suppose that it was just a _little_ bit funny, at the time," he confessed. "But still, it's nothing to be ashamed of, Malfoy. The Patronus charm is a really complex one, it's rather impressive that you've done it. Besides, ferrets are cool."

Draco's heart leapt a little. Potter thought his Patronus was cool? Did he think that Draco was cool? Did he—Draco almost slapped himself. What was he, a fourteen year old _girl_? He needed to get a fucking grip. "Thanks, Potter," he managed.

Potter turned away again, still smiling. "Of course," he murmured. "Anyways, what happy memory do you use?"

Draco hesitated for a moment, but he decided that it was okay to talk about it with Potter. They'd already shared so much. "When I was fourteen, my mother took me to France—just me and her—for the whole summer," Draco said quietly. "It was the first time I'd ever truly been alone with her. We used to eat the best cuisine and walk around the shops and then come home and sit in the yard for hours until nighttime and watch the fireflies come out and dance in the fields... She used to tell me then that I had to do what my heart told me, and not what anyone else said—because I wouldn't ever be happy otherwise. I never forgot it."

Potter was staring straight up. "I'm sure she misses you, Malfoy," he murmured. "Wherever she is."

Draco just nodded and looked at the ground, not trusting his voice to answer. He didn't want sympathy from Potter and the boy seemed to know it. That was the nice thing about Potter. He just knew, for some reason.

"Mine is of my mum and dad," Potter said softly, after a pause. "Talking to me. Telling me that they loved me; being with me always. That's it."

Draco couldn't answer again. His insides felt wobbly and all of the sudden, he wished that he were hidden deep down under the wraps of his duvet, curled up in a ball with his eyes squeezed shut. He and Potter were so alike sometimes, it was astounding. But then again, Potter was so pure, so good. And Draco... perhaps not. _Potter's parents must have been quite something_, Draco thought. _They must be so proud of him, wherever they are._ Could Draco say the same of his own parents? Could his mother really be proud of him now? He wrapped his arms around his torso and shivered from the thought. Potter looked at him now, obviously mistaking the movement as one from cold. The Gryffindor straightened up and slung an arm around Draco's shoulders, leaning in for warmth.

"Did I ever tell you that your mother saved me from Voldemort?" Potter asked.

Draco looked up in question. "No. She did?"

"Yeah."

Draco could feel the corners of his mouth tug upwards, and he let them this time. "I'm really glad," he admitted.

Potter smiled too, and flicked a couple of blond strands of hair away from Draco's forehead. Draco froze. Suddenly, he felt uncomfortable... their bodies were far too close and the conversation too intimate for his taste. He got up, brushing off his robes and looking back down at Potter, who was still sitting as if he were holding someone up.

Draco cleared his throat. "Thanks for this, Potter," he said. "It feels good to talk."

Potter offered him another brilliant smile. "We should do it more often."

Draco willed himself not to react stupidly. He tried to smile back, but he probably looked like a strained monkey. "Of course," he agreed. "Well... I'm feeling a bit knackered all of the sudden. I'm going to go back to the dorm to get some sleep." He turned and began to walk away quickly.

Potter was right behind him. "Want me to walk you to the dungeons?" he offered.

Draco's chest flooded with an overwhelming amount of surprise affection for him. Honestly! It was classic chivalrous Potter. Who else would offer to do such a deed? It was almost... endearing. Draco felt the unexpected urge to grab Potter's face and snog him silly. Oh gods, that was not good. He had to snap out of it! Draco managed a smirk despite his unstable condition.

"I think I can handle myself, Potter," he drawled. "Go back and have fun for the rest of the night."

Potter hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Don't make too much noise coming in. You know how Rebecca hates that."

Potter grinned and turned around. "I'll be quiet," he promised. "Night, Malfoy. See you later."

Draco waved him off. But as soon as Potter was safely around the corner, he bolted out of the courtyard and through the corridors, not stopping until he had reached the Slytherin common room and his own dorm. Draco stalked forward and instantly sank onto his bed with a frustrated sigh. Gods, what were all these _feelings_? He was uncontrollable and blushing and shaky all over. It was completely inappropriate. Draco tried to push them out but they stayed, firmly and stubbornly. Kind of like Potter.

Draco threw a pillow at the floor, now angrier than ever. "Fucking bastard," he growled, glaring at it. When he turned back to his bed, he noticed Rebecca sleeping peacefully in her blanket, wrapped up with tender precision. _Potter! He was so considerate! And charming! And fucking fit!_ Draco shouted off another string of obscenities to nobody in particular. He couldn't deny it any longer—it was painfully obviously now. He, Draco Malfoy, had the hots for Harry Potter. And he had them _bad._

Draco groaned and fell faceforward onto the duvet. He was _so_ fucked.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: So we finally have had Draco's big realization! I've read your reviews and have taken them into consideration for this chapter, so hopefully you will all enjoy it. Harry's POV.**

Chapter 13

Harry was having a surprisingly wonderful day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and everybody was getting along. It was... well, honestly, it was bloody fantastic. Dumbledore had permitted visiting in other common rooms, so Harry's Sunday had been spent lounging around in various common rooms with several of his friends—friends of all Houses—chatting and laughing with everybody there. This project was truly bringing them all together. As Harry walked down the corridor, he smiled at a Hufflepuff girl he had met the day before and she shyly returned the gesture. Yes, the inter-house relations were brilliant right now. Who would've guessed?

Harry was turning away from the girl, the smile fading from his face, when he almost nearly ran into Pansy Parkinson. He glanced up at her, surprised. "Watch it, Potter," Pansy said. "Can't you see that we're walking here?" She brushed invisible dust off her robes, but her tone was not unkind. Malfoy was behind her, cradling Rebecca in his arms and watching Harry with a strange expression on his face.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking properly," Harry apologised.

Pansy smiled at him. "Just don't repeat it, or I'll have to take you dancing again."

Harry grinned back. Since the Ball, he had realised that Pansy Parkinson _wasn't_ the female embodiment of Slytherin terror that he'd previously imagined her to be. In fact, she was rather lovely. It seemed to be a trend that he was currently following. "I'd probably just step on your feet again," he joked. "Anyways, where are you two off to?"

Pansy chuckled, and then shrugged. "Nowhere in particular. We were just walking around, having a chat. Right, Draco?"

Malfoy merely made a grunting noise and stared at the floor. Harry frowned. The Slytherin didn't seem to want to meet Harry's eye when Harry was looking directly at him. How odd. Normally, Malfoy never gave up the chance to shoot him some sort of look. And Harry had to admit, Malfoy looks were actually pleasant. He had grown accustomed to them.

"That sounds nice," Harry remarked, after a while. "As it happens, I'm going to meet Ron and Hermione in the library now. Want to come with?"

Pansy snorted. "I'm sure that Weasley would love my company," she said dryly. "I'm going to have to pass on that, however. But by all means, take Draco."

Harry looked at Malfoy again and now Malfoy was gazing back at him. "I wouldn't want to intrude, Potter," Malfoy drawled.

Harry shook his head. "You wouldn't be intruding. I'm inviting you," he replied. Now that he thought about it, Harry liked the idea of Malfoy coming along. Ron and Hermione wouldn't mind (much), and Harry was really enjoying Malfoy's company as of late. In fact, if Harry hadn't known better, he would've thought that the Slytherin had had a complete brain transplant... Apparently, Malfoy had always been a surprisingly witty and entertaining conversationalist. Who knew?

"Go on, Draco," Pansy insisted. "I was thinking of helping Blaise with his homework, anyways. You know that he's hopeless with Arithmancy."

Malfoy frowned. "You're also hopeless with Arithmancy," he pointed out. "_I'm_ good with Arithmancy."

Pansy waved him off. "You're good with everything. So what? That's not the point. Go and have fun."

Malfoy wrinkled his nose and turned away to whisper something in Pansy's ear. Feeling awkward, Harry stood by and glanced around, trying not to eavesdrop on their private matters. He stared off at a distant tapestry and let his mind wander.

Harry had noticed that Malfoy had been really agreeable since the Ball. The Slytherin was actually being... helpful. In fact, Harry had counted approximately thirteen nice things that Malfoy had done for him over the past week. For example, the other day, Malfoy had changed Rebecca's diaper when it had been Harry's turn. Another time, he'd let Harry sleep on the good side of the bed for no reason—he'd even pulled out Harry's chair for him before he sat down at dinner. Harry almost snorted at the prospect. It was almost as if Malfoy was... _courting_ him or something. It was so very old fashioned. Not that he was complaining—Harry loved that Malfoy was warming up to him so much.

Harry absently shifted the Potions book in his arms and glanced about again. If he was lucky, Malfoy would help him with his homework today... even though Hermione was supposed to try and teach him the new lesson, Harry actually liked Malfoy's instruction a bit better, and he was becoming quite fond of their study sessions. Since the first one, Malfoy had helped Harry three more times; they would always study at a surprisingly efficient pace for a couple hours and then slack off and chat after they were finished. For some reason, it just felt _natural_ with Malfoy, as if they'd been doing it their entire lives. Harry couldn't believe that he hadn't ever seen that side of Malfoy before. Malfoy was so smart, and helpful, and—dare he say it?—somewhat amiable. Those were not words that Harry had ever used for the boy before, but for some reason, he had no qualms about using them now. Again, it felt strangely natural.

Maybe it was the novelty of their situation, but Harry didn't think that was the case. Honestly, Malfoy had a distinct way of making Harry feel both special and normal at the same time. The Slytherin laughed at his jokes not because Harry was famous, but because he thought they were funny. He spent time with Harry not to hear glorious war recounts, but because he seemed to genuinely want to. Malfoy made Harry feel special for being himself, not for being the Boy Who Lived, or the Saviour of the Wizarding World, or any of that shit—Just Harry. That's what Harry liked about Malfoy and their new friendship. And also, if he were to be completely honest, he rather fancied the idea of hanging around Malfoy because, well, Malfoy wasn't too hard on the eyes. In fact, he was bloody gorgeous. The thing Harry liked most, maybe, was the colour of Malfoy's blushes: it was a lovely pink tint that spread from his neck and covered his fair skin. It was oddly beautiful. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Malfoy blush before this year.

"Pansy!"

Harry almost jumped at the sound of Malfoy's indignant voice. The blond Slytherin was currently sporting the exact shade he'd just been dreaming about; Pansy had obviously said something to cause it when Harry had zoned out. He frowned. He wished that he had been paying attention for that.

Pansy was smirking. "What? I was only saying."

Malfoy gave her a death glare, and then glanced at Harry nervously. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

Harry was confused. "Was I supposed to?"

Apparently, it had been the right thing to say. Malfoy immediately looked relieved, then dangerous again as he turned to Pansy. "We'll talk about this later, Parkinson," he muttered, the stain of colour still on his cheeks.

Pansy raised her brows. "Sure we will." She looked at Harry and gave him a winning smile. "I'm off. See you in class later, Potter."

At once, Pansy turned on her heel and flounced down the hall away from them. Harry waved after her, still perplexed but unwilling to question the seething blond about it. "Er, so are you coming with me?" he asked, turning to Malfoy.

"Um, I just remembered that I have things to do right now, actually. Important things," Malfoy remarked, glancing about before handing Rebecca over to Harry. "I reckon I've got to go now. Take care."

He took off in the other direction. Harry looked down at baby Rebecca and shrugged before continuing his route down the corridor towards the library. Honestly, weren't the mood swings supposed to happen _before_ the baby?

**~x~**

Harry walked into Marriage Sex and Family that afternoon with Rebecca still in his arms. It had been Malfoy's shift with the baby for a few hours now, but Harry had been unable to find him again after bumping into him in the corridor. Harry sat down in his seat and pursed his lips, irritated—it wasn't his responsibility to take care of Rebecca all by himself. The point of the assignment was to care for her together, and contrary to Malfoy's apparent beliefs, Harry _did_ have things to do with his life. What had the other boy been doing that was so important anyways? Harry clenched his jaw as Malfoy dashed in and took his seat just as Snape was arriving at the front.

"Sit."

Stray students scrambled to sit now; nobody wished to face the wrath of Snape today—for some reason, the professor had been even more venomous than usual this week. Harry hadn't even thought that it was possible until the man had made a random Fourth Year break down into sobs at breakfast with just one particularly menacing sneer. Harry felt bad for the poor bloke. With Snape, nothing was ever certain.

"Today, you will work briefly with a partner from a different group and examine your project with them. I will pair you up as usual." Snape announced. "Afterwards, we will get into a large group and collaborate as a class." Harry cringed as he remembered the last time they had group discussion. But from what he was aware of, he and Malfoy didn't have any more incriminating information to spread, so they should be okay. Unless there was something that he didn't know about. In that case, he should remain careful. "This week is also your last living together," Snape continued. "You shall all go back to your respective dorms on Friday."

There was a flutter of whispers and activity throughout the class. Harry frowned a little himself. He'd actually started to like living in Slytherin and had gotten quite comfortable there. Also, what would they do about Rebecca? She needed to sleep between them.

Snape cleared his voice and glared at everybody. "Quiet," he snapped. "Here are your pairs. Mr. Zabini, Mr. Weasley. Miss Parkinson, Mr. Nott. Miss Lovegood, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Finnigan. Mr. Thomas, Miss Weasley. Mr. Potter, Miss Granger..."

Harry looked over and grinned at Hermione, who gave him an encouraging smile and quick thumbs-up. What great luck! At least he wouldn't have to worry about being paired with someone he didn't like... although, there was hardly anyone left at this point. Harry turned around to say something to Malfoy, but the other boy scowled and looked away before he could say it. Harry frowned. What was Malfoy's issue? Harry had noticed lately that he became strangely tense and curt at the mention of Hermione. Was it the prejudice? Harry shook his head. Malfoy's subtle animosity towards her wasn't helping his argument that Malfoy was not horrible. Ron was still wary of the fact that Harry and Malfoy were getting along really well now, and even Hermione was a bit hesitant about it. It was like trying to talk to a brick wall.

After Snape was finished reading out the names, he left the room with a dramatic swoop, and Harry immediately rushed over to Hermione. He plopped down on her bench, careful to place Rebecca on his lap, and grinned at her. Hermione chuckled and ruffled his hair fondly. "Now this is my kind of class," Harry declared. "Working with my best friend."

Hermione smiled. "Of course," she remarked. "But you do know that we will actually have to talk about our projects. I'm not letting you slack off, Harry."

Harry let his face fall with mock disappointment. He hadn't expected any less from her. "Aw, but why?" he moaned.

Hermione hit his arm playfully. "So tell me about your project," she said. "How is everything going with Malfoy?"

Harry shrugged. "It's fantastic, actually. I think Malfoy and I are really getting a hang of this parenting thing." He tickled Rebecca's cheek and the little doll cooed.

Hermione's eyes widened. She stared at the baby doll as if it were a newly bound book. "Can I… Can I hold her?" she asked, tentatively. Harry tried not to smile as he handed the doll over to Hermione and she giggled. It was a rather surprising sight to see. "Oh—oh!" Hermione cradled Rebecca with care. "Harry, she's wriggling!"

Harry chuckled. "Don't worry, it means that she likes you," he assured her.

Hermione looked slightly dazed, and Harry wondered if she was thinking about the future when she'd have a real baby of her own to cuddle in her arms. The thought prompted a smile from Harry. He couldn't help but think of the same thing for himself. Would the feeling remain? Would the affection grow stronger?

"I can't wait to be a mother," Hermione declared, still gazing at the bundle in her arms with wonder. Her smile confirmed the thought that Harry had earlier. "There are just some things that you can't learn from a book."

Harry grinned. Leave it to Hermione to see it like that. "Well, I reckon you won't have to wait too long," he remarked. "You know how Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have been begging and pleading for grandchildren. Personally, I know that Ron wants at least two kids by the time he's thirty."

Hermione gasped and stared at him. "Harry!" she exclaimed, blushing.

Harry laughed cheekily. "Don't pretend that you don't know it, Hermione," he said. "You and Ron have been dancing around each other for ages."

Hermione looked as if she was going to argue, but after a moment, she just smiled and looked down at the baby again. "Maybe," she mused.

After a few more minutes of that, they began talking about her project with Blaise. It turned out that the Slytherin was starting to warm up to Hermione a bit, and according to her, they had worked together for a full hour without any major fighting or screaming. Hermione was quite proud. Harry was quite proud, too. At least, he was happy that his friends were all getting along better now. He didn't know how much longer he could take the split tension.

"Nursing is actually a fascinating career choice," Hermione was saying. "To work in a hospital, surrounded by constant chaos and urgency and care... I'd like to save lives like that, you know? It would be a nice change from all of this. Zabini thinks so too, with the police work. Wouldn't that be exciting? A bit like being an Auror, I think."

Harry grinned. "An Auror, huh? Blaise would love that."

Hermione smiled as well. "I could see it. Zabini has got that spirit in him... Malfoy, too. I bet they could be quite the pair if they wanted to."

Harry chuckled. He had never thought of either Malfoy or Blaise wanting to be an Auror, but he could see it as well. Although they bickered constantly, Hermione was right; Malfoy and Blaise were dynamic together—sort of like he and Ron were. Perhaps Harry should drop a few hints for Malfoy, see if he wanted to join the squad he and Ron had been surreptitiously creating for the next year? Harry snorted at the thought. He, Malfoy, Ron, and Blaise as a team—now_ that_ would be a sight to behold. _Speaking of Malfoy…_ Harry glanced over Hermione's shoulder and searched the room for two blonds (Luna and Malfoy had almost the same colour of hair). To his surprise, the Slytherin was already staring back at him. But as soon as Malfoy saw Harry looking at him, he darted his eyes away, his lip curled in distaste. Harry frowned at him. What was up with that?

Hermione noticed his gaze and turned also, wrinkling her brow when she saw what he'd been looking at. "Are you two okay?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "I... don't know. He was fine this morning, but he's been acting strange all afternoon. Avoiding me, I mean. But... he's not like that all of the time, Hermione. He's actually a really interesting bloke. If you and Ron would join us, maybe he'd—"

"Get all cold and unresponsive, like he always does when we're around," Hermione cut in, pursing her lips. "Harry, he hasn't tried to befriend us either. It's not just one-sided."

Harry sighed. "I know. I just think... I just think that maybe he's still a bit—"

Hermione tilted her head. "Prejudiced?" she guessed. "If he can get over it for you, I don't think that is the real problem. Maybe you should ask him. And I understand where you're coming from, wanting us to be friends with Malfoy... but I really miss hanging out with just you, Harry. And I know that Ron does too, he just doesn't want to say it in front of you."

Harry furrowed his brows. Hermione was right, the split between Malfoy and Harry's friends was becoming a problem. He missed hanging out with Ron and Hermione too. "I don't want to push his buttons in the wrong way, you know?" Harry explained. "I'm sorry that I don't get to spend as much time with you guys, and I love you both, but… " He let his eyes wander back over to Malfoy. "I like Malfoy now too."

Hermione gave him a small smile. "Harry. You know that we love you too, and we will try our hardest to do this for you, but it won't be easy. Malfoy just doesn't seem to like us..." She hesitated. "Especially me."

Harry looked at her sharply. "You noticed?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You thought I wouldn't?"

"Well, no... I was just hoping that it was all in my head."

Hermione reached forward and squeezed his arm. "It's okay," she said. "I think I understand, anyways."

Harry frowned. "You do?"

She smiled. "Don't I always?"

"Would you like to fill me in?" Harry asked.

Hermione handed Rebecca back to him. "I think you should mull over it yourself," she suggested. "I do have one thing that I want to run by you, however."

Harry stared at her. "What is it?"

"Malfoy is attractive... Yes?"

Harry gave her a pointed look. Well, obviously. It didn't take a genius to see that Malfoy was remarkably handsome. What kind of thing was that? "We both know that he's good-looking, Hermione," he muttered. "I don't see why you're asking me that."

Hermione grinned at him. "But do you find him sexually attractive?"

Harry frowned uncomfortably. "Erm, sexually...?"

Hermione bit her lip in a valiant attempt not to laugh. "As in, would you shag him?"

Harry recoiled. "Ugh, Hermione!" he cried.

She laughed for real now. Harry felt his cheeks heat up. He hadn't really ever thought about it that way, since he rarely felt comfortable exploring his sexual desires in the first place, but he supposed that it was a possibility. Of course, he had assumed that he didn't feel anything different for Malfoy because they were both blokes, but it wasn't like Harry had a problem with that concept. He was actually rather certain that Seamus and Dean had a thing for each other, and he had been friends with a boy down the block from the Dursley's who had said that he was queer. There was nothing wrong with being gay. It was just... Harry wasn't. He'd always fancied girls.

Harry shook his head and turned towards Malfoy again to inspect him. Thick robes covered Malfoy's body, but Harry knew that the boy was fit from sharing the bathroom with him on few occasions. Malfoy's shock of white-blond hair moved in wisps across his forehead as he spoke, somewhat disdainfully, at Luna. Harry observed Malfoy's facial expressions avidly for a moment. All of the angles of his face that Harry had always deemed pointy, were in fact, not so much anymore. The Slytherin actually had a lot going for him. Suddenly, Harry felt heat pooling up somewhere in the pits of his stomach as he watched Malfoy sigh irritably and jerk away. As soon as Malfoy turned, he glanced at Harry, as if he'd realised that Harry had been looking at him. Their gazes locked—grey to green, like a whirlpool of unasked questions and untold answers. Whoa. Harry felt a jolt of shock go through his body, and he suddenly felt as if he was choking from dry heat. Malfoy's cheeks turned a light pink again as he jerked his head away.

"Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry snapped back to look at her, dazed. "What?"

Hermione wrinkled her brow and leaned closer to him, seeming to inspect his eyes with uncomfortable scrutiny. Harry cringed away. But apparently, she'd already seen what she had wanted to see, and she sat back without argument as well. Her eyes flicked down before catching his again.

"Nothing, no matter," she remarked. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Before Harry could question it, there was a sudden flurry of movement as students began to crowd about. Snape had reentered the room now, and Harry looked at Hermione. "We're doing group discussion now. You should find Malfoy," she whispered, clearly having seen his confusion. She motioned for him to follow as she got up and joined the sea of students forming a circle in the middle of the room. Snape waited a few moments for the noise to die down before clearing his throat and pointing at a random pair.

"Begin," he snapped.

Harry glanced around. Damn it, where had Hermione gone? After a few more moments of searching, he frowned and squeezed himself between Malfoy and Blaise instead. He'd just catch up with her later. As he settled in, Blaise gave him a little bump hello, but Malfoy only tensed up. Seriously, what was his damned problem? Harry stared at the side of his face for a few moments without success. "Malfoy," he whispered to the Slytherin, but the other boy didn't answer. Harry tried to make eye contact again, but had no luck. He grit his teeth.

"Malfoy, look at me."

Malfoy didn't. "Why?" he asked.

"Just fucking look."

Malfoy turned, obviously exasperated. "What do you want?" he sneered.

Harry's temper flared up at the tone, but he tried to keep calm. There would be no point in getting into argument with Malfoy here, of all places. "Why have you been giving me that look all day?" he asked.

Malfoy glared at him. "What look?"

"That one! The one you're doing right now!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "What, I can't look at you now?"

Harry bristled. "I just want to know what your problem is!"

"Mr. Potter, shut up," Snape announced all of the sudden, interrupting Dean and Seamus during their review. Harry ducked his head and muttered under his breath. Bloody Snape. It wasn't as if Harry had been bothering anybody else.

Malfoy turned his head slightly away from Harry now. "I don't have a problem, Potter," he hissed, keeping his eyes focused on the group. "You're imagining things."

"Am not," Harry whispered.

"Are too," Malfoy responded.

"You are so fucking full of it," Harry grumbled. "I haven't even done anything to you."

"Mr. Potter," Snape bellowed again. Harry cringed at the bite in his voice and tried not to look at the man. Snape was probably burning a hole through his head by now. "Since you are so eager to talk, you and your partner will be sharing next."

Harry rolled his eyes and kept his head down again. Well, damn. If Malfoy wasn't going to tell Harry what was the matter with him, fine. It wasn't as if Harry wasn't used to the heated glares and cool reception already. Only, it sort of hurt now, which was actually fucking irritating. Merlin, Malfoy was a prick sometimes. Couldn't he see that Harry only wanted to help?

As if the blond had heard him, Malfoy bumped him gently. "I'm not angry at you, Potter," he muttered. "I'm a bit ticked off at Pansy right now, that's all."

Harry nodded but didn't look at him. Honestly, did Malfoy have to take it out on everybody? "Why?" he asked.

Malfoy made a small noise. "It's actually both she and Blaise. They're aggravating me."

Harry nudged his arm. "About what?"

"It's no concern of yours, Potter," Malfoy whispered. "You don't have to get involved."

Harry sighed. "You know, you can talk to me," he remarked. "We're friends now, remember?"

Malfoy gave him a strange, indistinguishable look before shaking his head. "I know," he muttered. "It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Mr. Potter, if you and Mr. Malfoy are quite finished whispering sweet nothings to one another, you may begin reviewing the past week of your assignment," Snape snarled suddenly. Harry rolled his eyes and turned to Malfoy, smiling when he saw a matching expression on Malfoy's face. It was uncanny how alike they actually were.

"Um, it's been good," Harry began. "The doll hasn't been giving us any trouble lately. We've been sleeping fine, and all of us in our dorm can testify that it has been a pretty quiet week." Blaise, Malfoy, and Nott all nodded at that. Harry continued. "And well, everybody's getting along for the most part. The doll is happy. It's been excellent."

Malfoy bumped Harry again, signaling that he was taking over. "We have a schedule for who takes care of Rebecca at what time," Malfoy explained. "Potter gets early morning and his first three classes, I have her for the rest of the school day, and he picks her up during dinner. We both take care of her in the evening until bed. It's sort of difficult taking shifts during the school day, but we're making it work." He paused. "Potter's right though—it has been rather excellent."

Harry smiled a little at Malfoy's words. He had been worrying for no reason—apparently, things were going well on both sides of the partnership. It was rather lucky. Harry never would have guessed that he'd enjoy this assignment as much as he was. Malfoy looked at him, noticed his smile, and gave him a tiny half-smile. It wasn't really anything, but Harry's heart fluttered a bit. What?

Snape looked annoyed at them. Obviously, he had expected them to screw up in some way. "Yes. I am certain your marriage is excellent," he spat, appearing as if it pained him to say so. Harry wanted to laugh, but he refrained. He bit his lip and looked at his lap instead.

Blaise leaned closer to Malfoy with a mischievous grin on his face. "Oh yes," he affirmed quietly to his friend, just loud enough for Harry to hear him. "Quite excellent, hm? You two are so_ excellent_ together."

Harry gave Blaise a weird look. Obviously, Blaise and Pansy were both pulling at Malfoy's strings for a reason. But why? It wasn't as if Malfoy had done or said something recently to make them act that way. Had he? Harry couldn't recall an incident. They were all friends... weren't they?

Malfoy grit his teeth. "Sure, Zabini," he drawled. Harry raised his eyebrows at the use of surname and unusually icy tone. Malfoy only glanced up and motioned that he was finished talking, and the next group began.

**~x~**

It was later that night when Harry began heading down the corridor for his weekly questioning with Malfoy. Usually he had Rebecca in his arms, but since Malfoy had neglected his duties during the afternoon, the other boy had her at the moment. Harry swung his arms carelessly, unsure of what to do with the emptiness. Of course, it had only been a few weeks with the doll, but it still felt strange not to be holding her—plus, Harry was eager to get to the classroom and spend more time with Malfoy. After dinner, he'd thought more about what Hermione had asked him, and fine, Harry had decided that he was kind of attracted to Malfoy in a sexual way. So what? He had a right to appreciate beauty when he saw it. It didn't mean that he was gay or anything; he hadn't been gay before and he wasn't now. Right?

Harry arrived at the classroom and pushed open the door. Malfoy was already there, fixing Rebecca's blanket and murmuring to her, and he looked up at Harry's entrance. The Slytherin flushed a little and pursed his lips from being caught acting like that. Harry grinned. When it came to Malfoy, Harry liked these candid moments the most... He bit his lip. Yeah, Malfoy was definitely more attractive than Harry had previously allowed himself to believe.

"Hey," Harry greeted, dropping his bag and sitting down without mentioning what he'd just seen. "Where are the questions?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "They weren't here when I came in. Couldn't find Snape, either."

Harry crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. "We could just sit here and wait, then. There's something that we need to talk about anyways..." He paused. "You know that I'm to move back into Gryffindor next week, right?"

Malfoy's expression was unreadable, but he nodded. "Yeah."

Harry eyed him. "So what are we going to do about Rebecca?" he asked. "She's going to go mental if we separate."

Malfoy scrunched his eyebrows together and peered down at the now-sleeping doll on the desk. "Oh, that's right," he mused. "There's no way that we'd be able to keep her happy if you moved back... We will have to inform Snape about the problem. Perhaps we can sort out a way to keep sleeping together." Harry's eyebrows rose and Malfoy glanced at him sharply. "I mean, for you to continue living in Slytherin. Merlin."

"You tease," Harry joked. "And here I was hoping that we could finally put The Extra Bed to use."

Malfoy gave him a curious look, and then burst out laughing. "You are ridiculous, Potter," he remarked.

"So is that a no?"

"Shut the fuck up, prat," Malfoy said sharply, a faint flush creeping over his face again as he laughed.

Harry grinned and bit his lip again. For a fleeting moment, he wanted to reach over and grab Malfoy's face and—Harry shook his head. He punched Malfoy's shoulder instead. "You know, you're not half bad, Malfoy. I wouldn't mind fucking you," he quipped.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Please, I would be the one fucking you."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "I'm a Gryffindor. I always come out on top."

Malfoy smirked. "I'm a Slytherin._ I_ always come out on top."

They studied each other for a few moments. Then Harry broke and laughed.

"Fine, we can switch. Git."

Malfoy pretended to mull it over. "All right. I get to be first though."

"In your dreams, Malfoy!"

**~x~**

After an hour and a half and no sign of Snape, Harry and Malfoy had decided that the professor wasn't coming and had headed back to the dorm for the night. It was late, almost curfew—they'd get into trouble if they stayed any longer. Harry had expected their friends to be asleep by now, as they typically were, but when they crept into the dorm, Nott and Blaise were sitting on Nott's bed. It looked as if they had been in the middle of a deep conversation of some sort. Harry frowned. Nott and Blaise never had deep conversations together.

"Oh!" Blaise exclaimed, hopping off the bed. "What are you two doing back? You're home early."

"It's not early," Malfoy remarked slowly. "It's after ten."

"Right," Blaise agreed, nodding as if he had just realised that. "Time flies when you're having fun, I suppose. Still, you're earlier than usual."

Nott looked from Harry to Malfoy with an odd expression. "Did Snape let you out?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "Never showed," he explained. "We didn't do anything but sit there forever, waiting for our questions. We just decided to come back after a while. There was no point in staying anyways, if Snape had happened to return and find us, he would've punished us."

"True," Blaise commented, slapping a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Well, I'm glad that you guys are back now, because I wanted to play a game of chess. Up for it, Draco?" he asked, turning to him.

Malfoy smiled tersely. He seemed a little hesitant to go, and Harry wondered if he was still angry with his friend. Malfoy shrugged, however. "Sure. But don't cry when I beat your sorry loser arse."

Blaise grinned. "Bring it on."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and stalked out of the room, and Blaise quickly followed him out. With that, Harry was left alone with Nott. Harry contemplated twiddling his thumbs and awkwardly leaving the room as well, but he decided against it. It wasn't as if he couldn't handle the Slytherin. Harry looked up, and surprisingly, Nott was looking back at him, gesturing Harry over. Harry complied, walking over and plopping down on the bed. Did Nott expect them to have a real conversation? Harry hadn't had a real conversation with Nott in... well, like, _ever._ But he didn't mind if Nott tried. No matter how uncomfortable.

Harry shifted around a bit. "What's up, Nott?" he inquired.

The other boy shrugged. "Not much. Can I ask you something though?"

"Sure," Harry encouraged.

Nott looked unusually embarrassed. He squeezed his fists and looked down at his lap. "It's about you and Malfoy."

Harry tried his best not to squirm. "What about me and Malfoy?" he asked, calmly.

"Are you... are you with him? For real, I mean."

Harry blushed now, unable to help it this time. Why would Nott think that? Was that what everybody thought? Harry didn't believe that he and Malfoy were acting any more or less like boyfriends, or _lovers_, or whatever. Just because they were getting along now didn't mean that there had to be another reason. He shook his head.

"No. We're just friends. Is that so hard to believe?"

Nott frowned. "No, but I mean, you _have_ been spending a lot of time together recently and Blaise says that with Malfoy being gay and all—"

"Wait, Malfoy's _gay_?" Harry exclaimed.

Nott looked bewildered, as if he had thought Harry had already known that. "Yeah..."

"Since when?" Harry pressed.

"Um… I don't know. I'm pretty certain that it doesn't just happen..."

Harry made an exasperated noise. "That's not what I meant," he said. "Has he ever been with a bloke?"

Nott wrinkled his nose. "How should I know?"

"You're his friend," Harry pointed out.

"So are you!"

Harry took a deep breath. It wasn't as if he and Malfoy sat around talking about their sexualities all day. But really, Malfoy was gay? Harry wouldn't have ever guessed it. Well, maybe he would, but he wouldn't have said it openly. It was just a bit of a shock... And also a bit scary, since Harry had been the one thinking that maybe he was sexually attracted to the Slytherin, and joking about who would top during sex, and now he was finding out that Malfoy was actually gay. What did that mean for Harry?

"We're just friends," Harry repeated. "Malfoy may be... like that, but I'm not."

Nott cracked a smile. "That's not what Blaise says," he remarked slyly.

Harry snorted. "Blaise is a wanker. It's not like he knows me better than_ I_ know me."

"Blaise knows better than _everybody,_" Nott insisted.

Harry rolled his eyes.

**~x~**

Harry lay in bed that night with a million thoughts racing through his mind. Nott thought that Harry and Malfoy were together. Hermione thought that Harry was attracted to Malfoy. Blaise thought that Harry was gay. Malfoy really _was_ gay. Harry rubbed his eyes and groaned, trying to clear his head. What if he was gay? What if he had been looking at this all wrong his entire life? And for Malfoy to be the one for him to realise it... Harry glanced over at the blond, who was sleeping quietly beside him, and sighed. Maybe he was. But if he was... it was only for Malfoy. Only for him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: I don't know if the POV switch gets confusing for you guys, so**** I'll try to put whose POV it is at the beginning of the chapter. This is Harry. **

Chapter 14

Harry woke up to a sharp prodding in his side. Ugh. What did it take to get a little sleep around here? He groaned and tried to pull his pillow over his head, only to have it yanked out from under him and thrown at his back.

"Potter!"

Harry groaned again.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter, wake up!"

Harry rolled over to face a rather rumpled-looking Malfoy, whose hair was sticking up in the most undignified manner and clothes were haphazardly thrown on. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Malfoy look like that, and he'd seen Malfoy look like a lot of things. It would actually be kind of amusing if Harry weren't so bone-tired... he had spent the night before falling in and out of sleep, worrying and mulling until his head started to hurt. Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy—he couldn't get the damned Slytherin out of his dreams. Besides, even if Harry _had_ done so, he'd only wake up to find Malfoy's sleeping form right next to him, which would have obviously been no help whatsoever.

So far, Harry had been unable to come to a definite conclusion on his sexuality, but he was rather positive that he fancied Malfoy somehow. Although, Harry didn't believe that he was _completely_ gay... Oh, he didn't know. It had all been so muddled... The confirmation of his feelings hadn't come to him until about 3 AM, when Harry had been in one of his "out of sleep" modes, lying awake and staring at the overhang canopy with frustration—Malfoy's hand had shot out and grabbed his. Harry had spent a good fifteen minutes keeping dead still, terrified that Malfoy was trying to trick him. But after realising that the other boy was truly asleep, Harry had noticed that Malfoy's hand was rather soft. And warm... Really nice, to be honest. Thinking about it now, Harry remembered the way Malfoy's fingers had curled around his and it sent unrestrained tingles down his back.

"What's the big rush anyway?" Harry grumbled, burrowing his face into the sheets with a sigh. He didn't want to think of it now.

"If you must know, Potter, we're late." Malfoy was rifling through his trunk, trying to locate something seemingly to no avail. "We slept through breakfast and our first class is in ten minutes—now get your fucking arse out of bed!"

"What?" Harry sat up quickly, throwing his covers from his body and rolling off the mattress. He shivered when his feet came in contact with the cool floor. "I thought Blaise and Nott were supposed to wake us up if we slept in!"

Malfoy scowled, grabbing a bottle of gel for his hair and tossing it back on the ground when he found it empty. "The bastards thought it'd be a good laugh, I bet. Damn it, where is my bag?"

Harry tossed him the sack lying next to his trunk, grumbling to himself as he began searching the floor for his own things. Perfect. As if the disorientation from the previous night's lack of sleep wasn't enough, he'd have to rush around if he wanted to get to class on time. And he hadn't even done his homework. Harry sighed. Today just wasn't his day.

By now, Malfoy had already finished dressing, and Harry was still looking for his school shirt. He made a noise of irritation as he searched. It was a bad habit of his to throw around his things and scatter them about at random; Malfoy was always reprimanding him for it. To be fair, Harry had never really had a reason to rush in the morning. Damn. He vaguely recalled almost tearing off a button from the crisp linen before he stepped into the showers, eager to feel the warm water against his skin, but where had he put it after that?_ Think_!

"Come on, Potter, we've got less than five minutes now!"

Harry glanced around once more and sighed. It was no use. There was no way that he could locate every article of clothing he needed in time—he'd just get both himself and Malfoy into trouble for being late. With conviction, Harry picked up his rumpled school robes from his chair and threw it around his shoulders. "All right, I'm ready. Let's go," he announced.

Malfoy looked at him with mild shock and disgust. "Are you serious? Put some trousers on, at least," he snapped.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I can't find any. Do you _want_ to be late?"

Malfoy grimaced and shook his head.

"All right," Harry said. "So let's go. Stop playing with your hair. You know that McGonagall will skewer us alive if we're late to her class again." He shuddered at the thought of Professor McGonagall's stern face. The last time he and Malfoy had been late for Transfigurations, McGonagall had lectured them for a good ten minutes after class, and they'd both been in shock for at least an hour after that.

Malfoy shot him a dirty look for the hair jab, and then both boys picked up their bags and dashed from the dorm, barreling down the stairs two at a time. Harry pushed past a few stray students as they ran through the common room without even bothering to stop and apologise. There was something so thrilling about it; the adrenaline pumped through his veins as they left the portrait and ran down the corridor together. Harry reckoned that he and Malfoy looked rather ridiculous as they did so, but he didn't care. They had just sprinted around the corner to the corridor outside the Transfigurations room when they heard the final bell ring. Harry swore and tripped, dropping everything in his hands.

"Fuck!"

"Get up, Potter!"

Harry only tripped again. Malfoy swore too and doubled back, helping Harry gather his things. Both boys stumbled and hopped and fumbled over themselves; Malfoy even picked up Harry's last textbook with a back roll into a standing position—Harry would've found it quite impressive if he hadn't already been so strung out. After gathering everything and breaking into sprints again, both Harry and Malfoy skidded in front of the door to the classroom, pushing it open and almost falling in, with choked breaths. At the accidental grand entrance, everyone turned around and stared at them.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall's hard gaze was upon them. Next to him, Harry felt Malfoy shift uneasily. Damn. McGonagall raised an eyebrow and looked them over. "How nice of you to join us," she remarked. "I can assume that neither of you are late to my class for reasons of personal hygiene."

Harry heard some snickers throughout the classroom at that. He looked at Malfoy and then down at himself—they did look rather horrid. The marathon run from the Slytherin dorms had left both of them heaving and gasping for air. Harry's own robes were crinkled and he was wearing two different shoes, and Malfoy's hair was still sticking up in the most un-Malfoy manner, his robes astray and... Harry's eyes widened. Malfoy was wearing _Harry's _Gryffindor tie. Harry glanced down to his own chest and groaned. Slytherin colours. Of course.

He raised his eyes to meet Malfoy's, and it seemed that the other boy had just noticed the same thing, judging by the matching expression of dismay on his face. Malfoy's silver eyes were flashing dangerously. "Erm..." Harry choked.

"You threw me the wrong bag!" Malfoy hissed.

Harry frowned in confusion and held up his. "No, I didn't. This is mine and that's yours... I don't understand, I specifically remember placing my tie in my bag and yours in your bag last night before bed."

Malfoy gave him a look. "Are you sure? You tend to forget to put your glasses back on after you shower."

Harry glared at him. "I'm positive! Besides, didn't _you_ put an anti-crease spell on them? It could have been you!"

"It wasn't me!"

"Well, they didn't switch by themselves!" Harry exclaimed.

Malfoy started to say something, but then stopped and scowled darkly instead. "Blaise," he muttered.

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, but Harry could tell that she was slightly surprised by the domesticity of their conversation. "As much as I enjoy seeing the two of you finally get along, I'll have to ask you both to sit down," she said sternly. "We'll discuss this after class _again._" McGonagall glanced them over and sighed irritably, turning away towards the board. "And for Merlin's sake, switch your ties."

There were more snickers as both Harry and Malfoy shamefully pulled off their ties and switched them, all the while not looking the other in the eye. With no available seats left, the boys took a workstation to themselves. Harry took special care to spread his parchments around the desk to look even more occupied than usual—he didn't want to give his Head of House any more reason to reprimand him.

"This is just brilliant," Malfoy muttered to him, after McGonagall had started the lesson. His face was in his hands, but Harry could see the blush had not yet faded from his fair complexion. "We're a laughingstock. As always."

Harry shook his head. "Sorry about the ties. I mean, it _could_ have been me."

Malfoy looked up and grimaced. "Oh, we both know it wasn't you. Besides, we had it coming—look at us! We've shown up looking like the ghosts of Hogwarts past hadn't gotten enough sleep for the past decade after walking through a blizzard." He glanced down at himself and gasped. "And I'm wearing last week's robes! Why didn't you tell me? Can't believe I actually left the dorm looking like this."

Harry chuckled quietly. "Can't believe you actually left the dorm with your hair looking like that."

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair and frowned. "Ah, fuck. Now I look like you." Harry laughed and shoved him. At the noise, McGonagall turned and glared at them with warning. They both stared down at their notes and shut up for the rest of class, although Harry occasionally felt Malfoy bump up against his leg.

**~x~**

Neither boy had any time to go straighten up after their first class, so Harry had already gone through half of his day wearing only pants underneath his robes. He felt strangely uncomfortable as if at any time his robes could fly off his body and expose him; he panicked whenever someone got too close. It had gotten to the point where he had even jumped back from Ron when the boy had tried to brush some lint from his shoulder. Furthermore, Harry had spent his lunch and free classes scurrying to finish his neglected homework. He hadn't really done anything productive the day before, and now he was paying the price big time.

After throwing together his Potions essay due at the end of the day, Harry fast-walked to Marriage Sex and Family in hopes that he'd bump into Malfoy before class. Evidently, Malfoy had the same idea and caught up with him in the corridor. The other boy waved at him.

"Potter!" he shouted.

Harry slowed down and waited for him. "I was just coming to find you," he said, without glancing up. Truthfully, Harry didn't want to look at Malfoy's face and have an embarrassing reaction, especially since he wasn't wearing much—Malfoy was just so damned pretty, even with his hair all mussed up. And if Harry's _anatomy _decided to betray him in these garments, well, it wouldn't be much of a secret.

Malfoy made a noise of aggravation. "Do you realise that we're the talk of the school today?"

Harry's head snapped up. "What? Why?" he asked.

Malfoy sighed and ran his hand through his loose hair. "You know, for what happened this morning," he explained. "People have been fucking it up and retelling the story with the wildest twists. I overheard Millicent Bulstrode telling Daphne Greengrass that we were holding hands when we walked in and that our lips had been swollen from excessive snogging. Naturally, I hexed her for her trouble. I mean, honestly. It's ridiculous."

Harry blushed. "Shit. If only Blaise and Nott had woken us up! Have you seen them?"

Malfoy growled. "No. But we will see them this class. I'll give them a piece of my mind, and of my stinging hex."

Harry grinned. "I'm with you there."

They nodded at each other, both smiling at the peculiarity of the situation. Who would have ever thought that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would team up to hex someone other than each other? It would have seemed impossible a few months ago._ But then again_, thought Harry with some amusement, _it would have seemed impossible for us to become civil with each other too. _They walked in together and Harry scanned the area for their targets.

"Zabini!" Malfoy roared.

Harry whipped around to look in the direction that Malfoy was glaring at. Blaise was standing next to Hermione, smirking, his arms folded across his chest. He appeared strangely calm. Harry shook his head. The boy obviously had a death wish. "Hello, Draco," Blaise greeted smoothly.

"Why the fuck didn't you wake us up this morning?" Malfoy demanded.

Blaise shrugged. "I thought you guys were already awake. I had no idea this would happen. Dear me."

Malfoy growled. "I swear to Merlin, I will hex you in your sleep if you _ever_—"

"If I ever _what_, Draco? Let you and Harry remain in each other's arms for another half an hour? Really, why are you complaining?"

"Nobody is remaining in anybody's arms!" Malfoy snapped.

Blaise smirked. "Oh yeah? Tell that to the polaroids I took last week. You two really are adorable."

Malfoy looked as if he'd been set on fire. "You're kidding, you don't have anything on us—"

"Would you like to wager on that?"

"Get over here, you little prick!"

"No, prat."

"Tosser!"

"Bastard!"

"All right, all right," Harry interjected, halting the flow of insults. The conversation was getting too loud and too embarrassing for his taste; they were starting to draw a crowd. Harry turned to look at Blaise, crossing his arms in an attempt to appear more intimidating. Unfortunately, the other boy was not phased. "Blaise, that was not funny," Harry scolded. "You do know that you've caused us unnecessary humiliation that will likely follow us for, I don't know, a week?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Of course he knows. He's a Slytherin. It's essentially mandatory protocol in our House handbook."

"You have a House handbook?" Harry asked dumbly.

Malfoy gave him a dry look.

Blaise laughed. "You two should really thank me. You got extra sleep! Besides, it's not like I _personally_ made you wear each other's ties."

Malfoy got all red in the face. "You—"

"Hey," Nott interrupted, walking up and patting Malfoy on the shoulder in greeting. The blond whirled around and glared at him.

"Nott!" Malfoy bellowed.

Obviously taken aback, the other Slytherin recoiled with his hands up in surrender. "What?" Nott asked, already defensive. "I hadn't done anything."

Malfoy laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I know. Just like you _hadn't_ woken us up this morning."

The colour seemed to drain out of Nott's face as he glanced over at Blaise nervously. The other boy just grinned and quirked an eyebrow. "I didn't think anything would come of it—oh for the sake of—" Nott's eyes widened. "_Pu__t that away_!"

Harry glanced over, belatedly noticing that Malfoy had his wand ready. In one swift movement, Harry snatched it out of his hand and placed it back in the boy's robes. He was all for getting revenge, of course, but class would be starting any minute—Malfoy couldn't afford to be seen in an antagonising position. "Snape," he hissed in warning.

Malfoy glared at him. "It was only going to be a little one," he argued.

"Don't worry. I've got an idea." Harry smiled and lowered his voice. "Itching powder in the pants. Hilarious and invasive."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "You've done it before?"

"Yeah. It's one of Seamus's favourites." Harry winced at a memory. "Trust me, it gets everywhere."

Malfoy looked intrigued. He opened his mouth to say something else, but just then, Snape appeared in the doorway. Malfoy simply raised his eyebrows at Harry and shifted away as Snape walked briskly to the front of the room and eyed them all with unveiled disdain.

"Class has begun. Sit down."

At that moment, Harry could swear that the room's temperature had plummeted just from the icy tone of Snape's voice. He nudged Malfoy's shoulder to get him moving and Malfoy shot one last glare at his Slytherin friends before nodding at Harry and turning to go sit at their bench. Harry followed him.

Snape pursed his lips and waited for the students to get situated before speaking again. "Today, you will be conducting one of several different trust exercises with your partner," he said. "Your assignment is to evaluate how much trust is present in your relationship and how that has come to be. Your analysis will be in essay form, due the day after the last exercise."

Harry tried to suppress a groan. _More_ work to do. He was falling way behind on his studies with all of his thoughts busying him and Rebecca and—Wait. Rebecca! He and Malfoy hadn't even thought about her this morning. They hadn't fed her or given her her morning bath! What if she was rotting to death? Or shit, what if she spontaneously burst into flames? They wouldn't have known! _  
><em>

Harry turned to Malfoy in panic. "Rebecca! We need to go get her now!" he whispered viciously.

Malfoy frowned and cursed. "Fuck! Okay, here's the plan—" His eyes suddenly focused on something behind him and he sighed with annoyance. "Never mind. I swear, I'm going to destroy that son of a bitch when we get back to the common room."

Harry turned to look and found Blaise smiling at them and holding Rebecca, making her little arm wave at them. Harry clenched his jaw and rubbed his eyes tiredly. That was a close one. For Merlin's sake, Blaise was really giving him quite the headache today! It was rather untimely and more than a little aggravating. In fact, Harry was surprised that Malfoy had not blown up yet from the stress of it all—the Slytherin had never really been good at managing his anger... Then again, Harry couldn't really say anything on the matter either.

By the time that Snape had finished speaking, the benches had all been pushed aside to make room for the students to practise whatever it was that they were doing today. Harry shook his head and realised that he had zoned out during instruction and had no idea what to do. What else was new, though? Thankfully, Snape had passed out a parchment with the written instructions and Harry grabbed his own to inspect it. "Trust fall? Life saving? CPR?" He wrinkled his nose. It sounded like a lot of work. After glancing around a bit, he realised that they were supposed to start with the trust fall. He studied the little diagram for a moment before turning to Malfoy. "Okay, you go first," he said. "Fall on me."

Malfoy looked bewildered. Obviously, he hadn't been listening either. "What? Why?" he asked.

Harry showed him the sheet. "Just do it," he assured. Malfoy gave him a look, but he turned around and fell into Harry's arms without further arguement.

Harry pushed him back up and looked at the parchment again. "Now close your eyes, spin around and fall randomly. I'll catch you." Harry expected Malfoy to protest at that, but the other boy did just as he was told. After pushing Malfoy upright again, Harry squeezed his shoulder. "Wow, you didn't even hesitate," he commented, just as Malfoy fell backwards again. Harry caught him, as promised.

Malfoy shrugged. "You've defeated the Dark Lord and saved the wizarding world from misery and evil. I'm rather certain that I can trust you to save me from merely falling on my face."

Harry fought the urge to grin madly. "I try, Malfoy. Although I'll admit, it would be rather entertaining to see you fall on your face."

"Let me remind you of the fact that you told me about the itching powder thing merely five minutes ago," Malfoy retorted.

Harry snorted. "Let me remind _you_ of the fact that I've got the powder and you don't."

Malfoy only smirked a little and fell again.

Something about that simple conversation made Harry's heart swell. Did Malfoy really trust him like that now? They practised the fall a few more times before switching, and after a while, Harry was starting to have a pretty good time. The more they practised, the more intricate their falls became—they treated the exercise as a game, trying to outdo the other with swift moves and smooth tricks. Harry laughed as Malfoy walked on his hands with surprising agility before falling into Harry's outstretched arms.

"I swear you were a monkey in another life," Harry teased. "You're so flexible."

Malfoy shot him a look. "Ooh no, Potter. Don't start. You are just _begging_ to be smothered in your sleep."

Before Harry could think of a witty response, Snape had reappeared with a tiny bowl on water in his hand. "Students, gather around. This will be the next task." He walked to the middle of the room and placed the bowl on the ground, enlarging it into a sizeable pool. Snape stepped back and gestured towards it. "Each group will have one of these bowls to work with. As this one had, the bowl will transform into a bottomless pool that one of you will have to "drown" in. Your partner will have to save you. In the Muggle way—" the professor added, sneering at his own words. "With floatation devices and such. If anything should go awry, I will be here to assist with magic."

Someone raised their hand. "Um, sir? A floatation device?"

Harry could hear more people whispering in confusion at that. Snape sighed irritably. "Very well, we shall have a demonstration," the man drawled. He glanced around and spotted his targets. "Potter, Malfoy, come here."

Harry rolled his eyes. Of course. He followed Malfoy over to where Snape was standing with his arms folded across his robed chest. The professor pointed at an object hanging off the side of the bowl/pool and turned to Malfoy.

"Mr. Malfoy, that is a lifesaver. You will tie it to this rope and throw in the water when instructed. Mr. Potter will be the drownee."

Again, _of course._ Harry sighed, about to climb into the pool. He really didn't care for the idea of getting his hair all wet before the end of the day, since it tended to become ratty as it dried, but he couldn't be finicky with Snape. He'd just have to live with his shit day and complain about it later in the confines of the dorm room.

"Wait, Potter," Snape snapped. "Take off your outer robes so I can transfigure your clothes into the proper attire. You may actually drown if you're wearing all that and it would be such a tragedy."

Harry felt the slight breeze beneath his robes and the memory of that morning flashed through his mind. Merlin, he was going to force himself to start organising his things from now on. "Um no, it's okay sir, I'll be fine," he muttered. "I've been in worse." He glanced over at Malfoy for help.

Malfoy's mouth opened a little as he realised Harry's situation and he chimed in as well. "Actually, sir, can I be the drownee? I think I slept on my arm wrong, it's rather sore. I don't believe I can throw the lifesaver properly."

"Yeah," Harry added. "Besides, he's probably a better swimmer than I am."

"I am," Malfoy agreed. "And Potter likes to save people."

Harry nodded. "I do."

Snape inspected them both suspiciously. "I don't know what the two of you are trying to achieve with this nonsense, but it's not going to work," he said. "Potter, take off your school robes."

"But sir, I—"

"This is an order. Take them off."

"Sir, he doesn't—"

"Stop fooling around, Potter."

"I'm not—"

"Potter!"

Without another word, Snape pointed his wand at Harry and briskly vanished his outer school robes with a flick. In slow motion, Harry saw his life flash before his eyes—every little detail and action was suddenly highlighted in his brain. There was a collective gasp. Girls were giggling and blokes were whistling. Harry distinctly noticed Ron bristle and Hermione bite her lip. Malfoy's face was bright pink. Snape was staring. Harry flushed. Oh, why hadn't he worn looser pants?

"Mr. Potter…" Snape began slowly. "Why on earth aren't you wearing your school uniform?"

Harry screwed his eyes shut and shrugged weakly. What was he supposed to say? That he and Malfoy had overslept and had not had time to get dressed? It would just make the morning situation even worse. Oh gods, this was awful. Harry just wanted to sink into the floor and never surface, ever, ever again—honestly, where the fuck was Voldemort when he needed him? _  
><em>

"Oh gods Potter, this is why you don't throw your clothes off after wearing them," Malfoy mumbled, looking away and peeking and then averting his eyes again. Harry glared at him.

"Not helpful," he hissed.

"I told you to put trousers on," Malfoy retorted.

"Did you _know_ that Harry wasn't wearing anything under his robes, Malfoy?" someone asked.

Malfoy cleared his throat in an attempt to drown out the comment, but it was too late. The widespread silence had been broken.

"Harry throws his clothes off in Malfoy's presence, hm?"

"See, I told you! They're shagging before class!"

"How thin are those pants, Harry?" Blaise asked cheerfully, adding to the commotion. "You should get in the water and see."

Harry blushed and Malfoy's forehead hit his palm again. Snape cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable and annoyed with the situation. "Shut up, all of you," he snapped. "There will be no demonstration. Each and every one of you gremlins will lose an additional five points from this assignment—no arguments. Begin with your task. _Now_." Snape pointed at Harry again, and suddenly Harry's school robes reappeared on his body. Harry wrapped them around himself protectively and ducked his head as Malfoy quietly picked up their bowl. They walked to the furthest corner of the room amidst many snickers.

"Fuck my life," Harry muttered, still hot from embarrassment.

Malfoy nodded in agreement. "Honestly, we attend classes with a bunch of fucking loons," he said, before pausing and giving Harry a slightly sympathetic look. "On the bright side, though, at least you hadn't somehow ended up wearing _my_ pants."

**~x~**

Harry waited outside for Ron and Hermione after class, still hanging his head with humiliation. Despite his efforts to remain covert, many students had walked by waggling eyebrows or whistling at him. Harry had scowled at them, naturally—as if everybody seeing him practically starkers hadn't been enough! Both of his friends came out of the room with matching expressions of sympathy for him.

"Rough time, mate," Ron remarked, patting his shoulder and squeezing it.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked. "You look pale."

"At least I'm not crimson anymore." Harry rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. "I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed in my life... Honestly, it tops the time I kissed Cho Chang and she cried. Really."

Hermione grimaced. "I know. And um, Harry..." She blushed a little. "I think you ought to consider investing in some new undergarments. They're rather tattered. I think they've got... _holes_."

Harry frowned. "Did you see...?"

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "Yeah, I mean, we didn't mean to... it was just... _there_."

"Oh my god," Harry moaned.

"If it helps, you've got more than half of the Quidditch team beat by a long shot," Ron tried weakly.

"Really?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head, wanting to end the humiliation. "Can we just—not. Please."

Both of his friends had nodded eagerly, but Harry's attention snapped to Malfoy as he walked past them; the boy was heading in the direction of the Slytherin common room. It was only natural, considering the terrible day that had just occurred, to retreat back to homebase. Harry wanted to do that himself. He watched Malfoy until the other was out of sight, and when he glanced back at his friends, they were both eyeing him curiously. Suddenly, he felt a little guilty that he'd been keeping all of his feelings from Ron and Hermione. After all that they'd been through together, Harry had vowed that he'd stop keeping secrets from them. He had realised long ago that it was always easier just to let it out. He cleared his throat.

"Guys, we've got to talk," he said. "Privately."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances at that. They nodded. Without another word, Harry began to lead the way towards the Gryffindor common room, the only place that he knew would be safe enough to have this sort of conversation. Once they had arrived, Harry was grateful to see that most everybody in Gryffindor was out visiting friends from other Houses at the moment—the room was pleasantly sparse. They all sat down on the couch next to the fireplace and Hermione set a quick Silencing charm around them just in case anybody decided to show up.

"So what is this about, Harry?" she asked.

Harry cleared his throat and played with the fraying ends of his sleeves nervously. He wanted his friends to know of his new revelation, but he didn't know how they would take it. It had only been a few months since he and Malfoy had started to get along, and he didn't want them to think that he was jumping to conclusions too soon... Harry glanced at his redheaded best friend. Especially Ron.

"Well, you know that Malfoy and I have... well, we've become close. Right?"

Harry saw Ron make a face at that, but Hermione didn't flinch. "Go on," she urged.

He bit his lip. "And I—we—I just…" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "I can't explain it. I feel all hot and cold around him. Nervous. Twitchy. It's... strange. It's as if he's put a spell on me or something."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Ron remarked. Harry gave him a dry look.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said.

"What? We all know that Malfoy loves his hexes," Ron pointed out.

Hermione pursed her lips. "You are _so_ judgmental."

"He does, though!"

"How would you like it if someone made assumptions about you?"

Ron snorted. "Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Guys, I think I fancy him," Harry blurted.

Ron and Hermione immediately stopped bickering. They exchanged glances again, and then Hermione patted him on the shoulder in apparent support. "We know you do, Harry," she murmured.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. Somewhere deep down, he had already suspected that Hermione would be okay with it, but... Harry turned to face Ron. "_We_?" he asked.

"Yes," Ron confirmed softly. "We've discussed it."

Harry frowned. "And you… you're okay with that?"

Ron grimaced slightly, but he slapped a hand on his back in an attempt of encouragement. "Of course I am, mate," he said. "You know that I'll always stand by you. I don't have a problem with the fact that you're gay."

Harry furrowed his brow at that. It wasn't really the issue he was worried about—although yes, it was nice to know that as well. As if reading his mind, Ron spoke up again. "And I don't have a problem with the fact that... you... fancy Malfoy," he amended slowly. "I guess... Well, I guess you know him better than I do. And as revolted as I am by him, I know that you can take care of yourself." Ron gave him a shaky smile. "If you trust him, I trust you."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Hermione's opinion was very important to him, but it was Ron's that Harry needed for this one. He felt a wave of affection for his best friends and grinned. "Thanks, Ron. Hermione."

His friends smiled back at him. "You know you can tell us anything, Harry," Hermione reminded him. "Besides, there are much worse things you could do rather than fancy a Slytherin... Even if _does_ happen to be Draco Malfoy."

Ron shook his head. "It had to be him, didn't it? I swear, mate, you've gone mental."

Harry laughed as Hermione flicked Ron's shoulder and scolded him. He shrugged. "Perhaps I have—but you know me. I can't resist a challenge."


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Thank you to everybody who's been following this story and reviewing! (I've been updating on my Tumblr every time I write a new chapter, so hopefully some of you are still here) Harry's POV.**

Chapter 15

Harry looked around the transformed Slytherin common room and whistled quietly—Nott and Blaise had actually gone all out with this. The emerald-silver furniture and tapestries had been replaced with items of all House colours, and the couches and chairs had been moved to a corner next to the fireplace to make room for a makeshift dance floor in the middle. Harry noticed that there was even tables of foods and drinks lined up against the wall. It was festive, yet, tasteful—_very_ Slytherin-esque. The decorations must have taken ages to set up... of course, they'd not been allowed into the common room all afternoon (this had driven Malfoy insane with annoyance) and Harry hadn't been able to drop off his books or change after his strenuous Friday classes, but it was definitely worth it seeing it all now. Harry whistled again. Wow.

Since everyone was to move back to their original dorms soon, the Eighth Years had decided to make an event of it—and the notorious Slytherin party boys had been quick to volunteer their common room. Harry took one more look around and smiled at a passing Ravenclaw. It was a fantastic idea. All of the students had made surprising new acquaintances and alliances and it was rather nice to see it all here in front of him, like a grand prize, a beautiful beginning, something to celebrate now and something to look forward to in the future. Real friendships. Harry would never have guessed it a few months ago, but he was starting to find peace in his classmates again.

"Oi, Harry!"

Harry turned around. Blaise was coming towards him, waving a drink in one hand. Harry waved back at him.

"Smashing, isn't it?" Blaise remarked, glancing about to admire his own work.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "You and Nott have done an amazing job."

"Psh. Nott did absolutely nothing," Blaise said, wrinkling his nose. "In fact, he spent half the time flirting with Daphne for free whiskey."

Harry snorted. "Sure."

Blaise smiled now. "I reckon it's the best I've planned yet. Don't you?"

"I wouldn't know, I've never been to one of your parties before," Harry reminded him.

"Oh, that's right." Blaise smirked and began to walk away to greet another crowd of people. "_You_ used to be a whingy Gryffindor."

Harry frowned. "Hey! I still am!" he yelled after the boy. He frowned again. Wait. "And I'm not whingy!"

Someone scoffed behind him. "That's debatable, Potter."

Harry whirled around again. This time it was Malfoy, who was eyeing him with the same self-important smirk Harry had seen only moments before on the _other_ one. Harry resisted the urge to snort. Slytherins. "That's rich, coming from you," he retorted, crossing his arms.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Why ever would you say that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Harry remarked sarcastically. "Perhaps because _I_ was the one forced to sit through hours of _you_ whinging about being banned from the common room in the library today. Or have you forgotten?"

Malfoy sniffed. "You could've left if you wanted to."

"You said you would hex me if I tried to escape," Harry pointed out.

Malfoy tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Hm. I don't recall that."

Harry resisted the urge to smile. "Of course you don't, prat."

Malfoy grinned and winked at him before promptly whirling around to talk to Nott, and Harry let out a relieved sigh. Merlin's pants, Malfoy looked good tonight, possibly the best Harry had ever seen him—and that was saying something, considering that Harry had shared the washroom with Malfoy plenty of times. The boy was positively poisonous with his slicked hair and glowing skin and bright eyes... Harry gulped and walked away from the growing crowd, opting make himself comfortable on a secluded chair beside the fireplace instead. He'd already done his mingling, and besides, Harry needed time to take a breath and not think about blonds or Slytherins or washrooms or blond Slytherins in washrooms. Gods.

Harry observed the room now; it was filled with students to the brim, all of them celebrating and lamenting the idea of going back to their old dorms. It really was unfortunate... Even though it had only been a temporary thing, the new living situation had done a lot for House Unity. As much as he appreciated them, Harry knew that the visiting permissions of other common rooms were definitely not enough anymore. Looking around still, Harry watched as Nott and Ginny snogged fiercely and Neville threw an arm around Luna, smiling at his friends' antics. In another corner of the room, Ron and Pansy were exchanging drinks and bickering amicably. All was well, it seemed, and all because of a little House movement... Who knew what the move back might bring to the students.

However, Harry himself wasn't saying goodbye to his new quarters—he was still staying in the Slytherin dorms. At least, half of the time. He and Malfoy had gone to address the issue of Rebecca to Snape (who still wasn't looking Harry in the eye after… _the incident_), and the professor had agreed to let them continue to live together, under the conditions that they'd have to switch back and forth from Slytherin and Gryffindor each week. Malfoy had made a bit of noise about that, but Harry personally thought that this idea was fair, if not preferable. As much as he'd grown to like Slytherin dorms, he missed his own bed in Gryffindor—even though he'd have to endure the incessant teasing of his own Housemates about the bed-sharing with Malfoy. It was a small price to pay.

"Harry! There you are."

Harry looked up. Hermione was standing in front of him, blocking the warmth from the fireplace. He gestured for her to sit across from him.

"Hi. Are you looking for Ron?"

Hermione sat. "No, I've already seen him. What are you doing?"

"Sitting."

"Avoiding?"

Harry glared at her. "No, just sitting."

Hermione gave him a knowing grin. "Sure, Harry," she said. "Have you talked to Malfoy lately?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione, it's not as if I'm going to have a chat with him about it," Harry said, shaking his head. "I've barely come to terms with it as it is."

Hermione shrugged. "I was just curious, seeing as you two constantly flirt with each other..."

"Flirt?" Harry wrinkled his nose at the word. "I do_ not_ flirt."

"Correction: you do not flirt _well_," Hermione remarked, with a small smile. Harry scowled at her. She ignored him. "Besides, Harry, don't you think that Malfoy ought to know?"

"I ought to know what?"

Harry glanced up sharply to find Malfoy standing above them with a drink in his hand and one eyebrow raised. Harry shot Hermione a harsh look and the girl nodded in response. "I've got to find Seamus and Dean," she insisted, ignoring Malfoy's inquiry completely. "God knows what they're planning to do in Slytherin territory." She got up and scurried away without another word. Malfoy took to staring at Harry instead, and Harry cleared his throat nervously.

"Would you sit down?" he asked.

Malfoy looked as if he wanted to push the question for a moment, but he smirked instead. "I would, Potter, but you're in my seat." He placed himself on one of the arms of the chair and looked down at Harry again. "You know that, obviously."

Harry grinned. "Of course, but it's not entirely unheard of to sit in a different spot once in awhile, Malfoy. Perhaps you could try it."

"Perhaps." Malfoy smirked again and slid off the armchair right into Harry's lap. "However, it's not likely that I will."

Harry gasped with an 'oomph' as Malfoy pressed his full weight onto him. "Are you serious right now?" Harry asked, glaring at his friend.

Malfoy squirmed a bit, sprawling out with his head resting on one chair arm and his legs going over the other. The rest of him covered Harry's entire lap. Malfoy smiled. "Yes, I'm absolutely serious," he assured. "This is a compromise."

Harry pretended to grumble. "Not for my legs!" he complained, childishly pushing at Malfoy's side. "Dear gods, I think they're becoming numb."

"Oh hush up, you baby," Malfoy snapped. "I'm not heavy."

"Not heavy? You're like a fucking brick!"

"Oh yeah? And you think that your bony legs are any more comfortable?"

"More comfortable than your bony arse!"

"It's not bony, it's refined," Malfoy said lightly, taking a sip of his drink and sighing. Not even one snide retort... the Slytherin was in a ridiculously amicable mood at the moment. _Probably tipsy already, _Harry thought. He grabbed the cup from Malfoy's hand and downed it in one gulp. Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"You're going to have to get me another one, you know," the boy pointed out.

Harry shrugged. "Get off of me and I'll get us both some."

Malfoy smirked lazily at him. "Nah. I'm actually good," he mused. "Besides, I don't think that you could handle another drink, Potter. Heard you were a lightweight."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I am _not_."

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch, sweetheart," Malfoy said, smirking again. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. Some of us just don't have the stamina. That's okay."

Harry's cheeks went hot. "I have plenty of stamina, Malfoy."

The Slytherin sat up abruptly and leaned in so close to Harry that their noses were almost touching. Harry went still. "Is that so?" Malfoy breathed, his eyes flicking down to Harry's mouth briefly before seizing his gaze again. The silver flecks flashed with sly mischief and Harry felt a familiar discomfort forming his lower area. He gulped hard. _Don't think about it, don't think about it, he's on your lap, he'll feel it, think about McGonagall and Snape, yeah, and huge spiders, and unicorn blood and Skele-gro and oh gods it's not fucking working—_

Malfoy didn't seem to notice his distress. He was still smirking, his lips twisted into that familiar expression... but oh, how would it feel to have those lips on him...? And his hands... and his bony, refined arse... Fuck! Harry's eyes widened and he felt his palms go clammy. He needed to get out of here before Malfoy became aware of his _problem_. "Um, er, I've got to… um, I have… I need to go get…" Oh gods, it was getting worse! Harry stood quickly, practically hurling Malfoy off of his lap. "Oh, er, sorry, I've—oh, shit—"

Harry turned on his heels and disappeared into the crowd of people dancing, his face still burning with the intensity of a thousand suns. Oh gods, no! He'd gotten hard—with Draco Malfoy sitting on his lap! Had he felt it? Did he know? Harry grabbed a glass of something from a nearby table, hoping that it was alcohol. At this point, he needed it, a lot of it, if he wanted to forget. And Merlin, did he ever. Even if Malfoy had somehow become oblivious to the monster erection Harry had going for him, the Slytherin would still be furious that Harry had unceremoniously ditched him without explanation. In the words of Malfoy, nobody ditches a Malfoy and gets away with it. Harry sighed. He was in trouble.

With another quick glance around, Harry fled from the drinks table, not wishing to get caught by any of his classmates—he still had a raging problem to take care of. Harry didn't stop until he'd reached the boys' dorms and pulled the familiar curtain of his (and Malfoy's) bed shut. Relief! Harry sighed and curled up on his side, letting his heartbeat slow down back to normal. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed his problem to solve itself. Go away! Go away! There was absolutely no way that he'd risk going into the washrooms and getting caught wanking to the thought of another boy sitting on his lap. Hell no. He'd wait it out. Harry bit his lip and reached out for Rebecca, who was lying in a bundle next to him, and held her close. Fuck hormones.

**~x~**

It had been a couple of hours since Harry had excused himself to the dorm, and even though it was nearly 2AM, none of the boys had come up to bed yet. Curious, Harry slid out of bed and left the room, sneaking down the stairs to see what was going on. Typically, House parties didn't last longer than a few hours—but then again, Harry had no idea about _Slytherin_ House parties. Still, what could they possibly be doing now? Surely, the alcohol was long gone. He peered into the large common room.

There weren't many people left. Some unfortunate students had passed out on the floor, and some were snogging in corners, but other than that, there were little signs of the remaining party. Hm. Harry let his gaze wander over to the couches by the fire. He raised his brows in surprise. Hermione, Blaise, Ron, Nott, Pansy, Neville and Malfoy were all sitting in a circle, appearing to be playing a game of some sort. Harry began to back up the stairs slowly. Shit, maybe if he just turned around and—

"Harry!" Hermione's voice called out to him. She was waving at him as if she'd just noticed his presence. _Damn it. _"You're here!"

Ron beckoned him over. "Hey, mate," he greeted. "Come join us."

"I'm kind of tired, actually," Harry mused. "I think that I'm just going to head off to bed."

"Nonsense," Blaise piped up. "You've been up there all night. Live a little, Harry."

Harry sighed. Arguing with Blaise would do him no good; the boy would just end up dragging Harry over anyways. "Fine," he said tiredly, walking over and avoiding Malfoy's probing gaze as he placed himself between Pansy and Hermione. "What are you all doing?"

Pansy grinned at him. "You'll see," she chirped. "First, everybody place their hands on the table." After they'd all done so, she winked at Harry and appraised everyone around the table with a satisfied smile. "We're about to play Truth or Dare, bitches."

Everybody groaned except for Blaise, who beamed at Pansy with pride. Obviously, the two had been in cohorts. Pansy went on. "Here are the rules," she said. "After you pick Truth or Dare, you cannot back out of it. If it's a Truth, you will only have to answer the person who initiated the question given to you... And if it's a Dare, you must do it before anybody else can take a turn, or the game will not end. We'll sit here all night if we have to."

"That's not fair," Ron argued now, frowning. "You're all Slytherins. You'll probably dare us to do something awful or painful or..."

Pansy smirked. "Yeah, sucks for you, Weasley," she teased. "I put a spell on the table you all just touched." There were spluttered protests around the group. "Shut up," she snapped now. "I am the only one who can end the game seeing as you're all bound under my magic. Does everybody understand?"

Harry bit his lip and chanced a peek at Malfoy; the other boy glanced towards him at the same time with an odd expression on his face. Their eyes met briefly before Harry averted his. Was this really a good idea? What if something happened and Harry was forced to reveal his feelings in front of everybody? His stomach lurched.

"Um, Pansy—"

"What, Potter?"

"I—" Harry shook his head. "I don't want to play."

"Me neither," Malfoy interjected, before Pansy could respond. "I'm exhausted. Could you spell us out?"

Pansy grinned and waggled a manicured finger at them. "Nope, sorry, boys. I told you, you're magically bound to this game. Until I say you can leave, you won't be going anywhere." Harry scowled and Malfoy looked pained. Pansy smiled slowly. "Besides, why wouldn't you want to play? Have either of you got something to hide?"

Malfoy paled significantly. "No."

Harry glanced at him and shook his head in agreement. Oh Merlin.

"Good, then let's play," Pansy said cheerfully. "I'll go first. Longbottom, truth or dare?"

Harry saw Neville's Adam's apple bob up and down. "Um, truth?" Neville squeaked.

Pansy smirked. "How far have you gone with Lovegood?"

Neville coloured immediately and Ron glared at the smirking girl, standing up for his friend. "You can't ask him that!" Ron exclaimed. "That's private!"

Pansy shrugged. "It's Truth or Dare, I can ask him whatever I want," she reminded him. "Answer the question, Longbottom."

"I've kissed her," Neville mumbled, still red.

"Where?" Nott asked tauntingly.

Ron balked. "Nott!"

"Okay!" Pansy announced. "It's your turn to ask, Longbottom."

Neville surveyed the group. "Hermione. Truth or dare?" he asked.

Hermione looked hesitant. "Truth, I suppose."

"Aw, come on Granger! Be exciting!"

Neville and Hermione both ignored Nott's outburst. The boy thought for a moment before asking. "Um… Do you fancy somebody in this room?"

Harry looked at her and smiled. He already knew the answer, but it would be nice to hear her admit it for once. Hermione bumped his leg and returned the look fondly. "Yes," she confirmed.

Harry sighed and watched her cheeks redden slightly. Of course, being friends with both Ron and Hermione for years had given him rather ample insight on their relationship—in short, they were both mad for each other but neither were brave enough to make a bloody move. Harry let his eyes wander from a confused-looking Ron to a timid Hermione. Merlin, they were both hopelessly thick. Harry glanced around to see the reactions of the others, most were knowing, but some were bewildered, like Ron. Harry's gaze fell on Malfoy last; the boy was glaring at Hermione with unneeded intensity. Harry frowned. What was Malfoy's problem with Hermione? It was really starting to bother him.

Hermione cleared her throat, attracting Harry's attention back to her. "Blaise, truth or dare?" she asked.

The dark haired boy grinned. "Dare," Blaise said, with oozing confidence. "Hit me with your worst, Granger."

Hermione smiled with uncharacteristic slyness at him. "Oh, Zabini, I've been waiting to do just that all year," she answered smoothly. "I dare you to put a Silencing charm on yourself and not take it off until the end of the game, unless you have to answer a truth."

Blaise's coolness broke and he squawked in protest. "What? But I—"

Pansy looked a mix of pleased and impressed with Hermione. "Blaise, do it," she commanded sternly.

Blaise shot a dirty look at both girls and grumbled as he put the charm on himself with sulky moodiness. Harry grinned at him. Hermione had really hit home with that one—if there was one thing that Blaise truly despised, it was having to shut the hell up. This could actually be sort of interesting.

Blaise then motioned at Malfoy, drawing a T and an F in the air with his wand.

Malfoy gulped noisily. "Um… Truth," he murmured.

Blaise smirked at him and started to draw something in the air, but Pansy interrupted him. "No wait, Blaise dear," she said. "Since you are unable to speak, why don't you let Potter ask the question? He'll probably come up with a better one anyhow."

"Hey, isn't there a rule against that?" Ron asked, butting heads with Pansy once more. The girl seemed used to it, though, and ignored him. "Go on, Potter," she urged, smiling at him sweetly and ignoring Blaise's silent protests and Ron's loud ones. "I'm sure that you have a load of questions to ask Draco, hm? Give it a go."

Harry furrowed his brows. Of course, he had lots of things to ask, but he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to ask them—especially here, in front of all their friends. Besides, Harry didn't want to make the other boy angry. "I don't know," he remarked. "Blaise can do it, I don't have a question in mind."

Malfoy looked relieved for a moment, but Pansy persisted. "No, Potter, it's okay. You can ask him _anything_."

Harry paused and looked at Hermione. She was giving him the Look of Concern and he suddenly felt a curious rush of sympathy for her. "Well, all right..." he frowned and turned to Malfoy. "What have you got against Hermione?"

There was a small gasp, and Harry realised it had come from Hermione. He glanced at her again and she shook her head. Was it the wrong thing to ask? He had only wanted to stick to subjects that weren't privy to himself... but what if he had unknowingly created some kind of drama? And oh gods, what if Malfoy still hated her for... _pureblooded_ reasons? That sort of thing would be like poison to a 'fun' game like this... In fact, it wouldn't be a game any longer.

Malfoy's face was bright red. "I… I… She's got—and you're always—and I get so—" He was stammering relentlessly now, trying to stop himself from speaking to no avail. The magical bond seemed to be working. He looked as if he were about to burst.

"Spit it out, Malfoy!" Nott smacked the other boy's arm.

Malfoy fixed his gaze at the ground and muttered something unintelligible. Harry strained his ears but didn't catch the statement. "Um, what?" he asked.

Malfoy looked up, and now his expression was burning, flaming fury. Even his normally cool eyes were alight with passion. "I _said, _I'm fucking jealous of her," he snarled viciously, allowing the others to stare at him in shock. It became so utterly silent that even a falling pin would sound like thunder.

"I… You… What? Why?" Harry was the one stammering now. What was Malfoy trying to say?

Malfoy glared at the floor, the fire seeming to fade from him as the spell took over. "Yes Potter, I, Draco Malfoy, am jealous of Granger," he muttered, clearly still under the influence of the game. "Because anyone with eyes can see that you bloody fucking fancy the shit out of her. And I wish you didn't. I wish you fancied me." Malfoy's mouth formed a mortified 'o'. "_Fuck!_" he exclaimed.

Harry gaped at him, unable to form coherent words, or any words, for that matter. Malfoy was jealous of Hermione because he thought that Harry fancied _her_? Harry shook his head. Where the fuck did the dense prat get that idea from? How could he possibly believe that Harry had any feelings for anyone other than him? This was ridiculous. This was madness. This was absolutely, positively, completely... _incredible_.

Hermione braved the roaring silence and turned to face Harry. "Harry, truth or dare?"

Harry continued to stare at Malfoy, who looked like he was about to cry now. "Dare," he affirmed.

"Tell him," she demanded. "And for godssake, Harry, do it right." Harry smiled at her before standing up and plopping himself down right in front of Malfoy. He tilted the other boy's chin up to properly look at his face. Merlin, Malfoy was so, so beautiful. Vulnerability had never looked so right.

"It's not Hermione I fancy," he said, just loud enough for the other boy to hear him. "It's you, you stubborn, senseless _git_."

Harry leaned in closer, and closer, and closer, until all he could see was wide, clear grey eyes, and suddenly, he couldn't stop himself...

**(Another quick!) Author's Note: HAHA okay I'm sorry, that's a terrible place to leave you hanging, but I'm afraid that's how it's got to be! Also, couldn't help but sneak in the Truth or Dare thing. I'm a total sucker for it.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Hey guys! I hope that the last chapter got your attention! We're switching back to Draco's POV now. :)**

Chapter 16

_Oh gods,_ Draco thought, panic and euphoria and shock all running through his veins at the same time._ This is really happening, this is really happening, he's going to kiss me right here and now in front of all these people and I don't even give a fuck anymore—_

Potter was mere breaths away from him now. He were so close, in fact, that Draco could feel his warm breath on his own lips_—_it seemed like they were frozen there for ages, neither one of them moving to close the tiny distance between them. Oh gods, could Potter hurry the fuck up before Draco _died_? After a few slow, painful moments, Potter finally pressed his lips to the corner of Draco's mouth, barely brushing it. Then he pulled back, his vivid green gaze penetrating and flashing with something that Draco couldn't detect. It had been so brief, but Draco didn't mind. Oh, sweet Merlin, he didn't mind at all.

"He's all yours, Malfoy," Granger said quietly now.

Draco paused and shot her a guilty look. He hadn't meant to just explode like that in front of everybody. Even if he didn't like her all that much, he hadn't meant to embarrass her... or himself, for that matter. He shook his head. "Granger, I..."

She smiled at him. "It's okay."

Potter pulled Draco closer, bringing him back. "Hey, remember me?"

Draco smirked. "Who?" he teased.

Potter grinned and began kissing Draco's jawline all the way down to his throat in response. Draco's breath hitched and he looked up towards the ceiling, allowing the other boy more access. Oh gods, he couldn't believe it_—_Harry Potter was kissing him, Harry Potter wanted him, Harry Potter... fuck. It was so fucking _awesome._ He didn't even want to describe it_—_not that he really could, anyways. Potter was effectively dulling Draco's senses at the moment.

"Bloody hell…" came a voice from a few feet away. Draco looked down sharply to see the Weasel's face, stricken with wonder and slight disgust at the sight before him. The others around them had matching expressions, if not a little more disgust than so, and Draco blushed and glared at the ground. He'd almost forgotten that they were still playing a game. Damn them all for ruining a perfectly potential orgasm.

"Bloody hell is right," Pansy breathed, smiling softly at Draco. "I didn't realise Potter was going to do _that_."

Blaise lifted his wand and undid the silence spell, despite his orders. "I told you, Draco," he boasted. "You should have just went for it. That way, we wouldn't have had to humiliate you like this. Although, of course, it is for your own benefit... Isn't that right, Harry?" He winked at Potter before Granger promptly put Blaise back under the silence spell.

Granger gave Potter an affectionate look. "I think they've had enough for one night," she remarked. "Pansy, could you—"

Pansy flicked her wand before Granger could finish and her spell let Potter and Draco go. Some of the others began to protest, but she ignored them. "Have a good night, boys," she said, flashing them a suggestive smile. Draco glared at her for a moment, but he couldn't stay mad. Not after what had just happened.

Draco started for the boys' dorms with Potter trailing after him, neither of them uttering a single word as they went. Despite the silence, Draco had never felt lighter in his entire life. Who would have thought that Potter had felt the same way about him? Could it be possible that Potter had been in the state Draco had been in for the past few weeks_—_misplaced, misused, weak at the knees, can't-stop-staring infatuation? Draco shook his head a little. Perhaps he was just loony. That was actually very possible.

As soon as they arrived in their dorm Draco climbed into bed, making sure that Rebecca was still sleeping. Potter must have camped out here during the party, as the sheets were slightly mussed and his pillow bore a Potter-shaped dent, as well as the fact that Rebecca was perfectly tucked in. Draco tried not to grin at the thought. Soon after, Potter joined him and pulled his shirt over his head, as was routine. Draco couldn't stop himself from staring quite openly. Merlin, right now, he was the luckiest bastard in the world.

Potter caught his eye and blushed. "I—you—we, I mean—" he stammered.

Draco let him stutter awkwardly for a few more moments before speaking. "Honestly, Potter, I've seen you shirtless every night for the past month," he remarked. "You don't have to be shy now."

Potter grinned at him, grateful. "Oh. Right."

Draco deliberately let his eyes trail down Potter's body in appreciation. "Though, I can't say I haven't enjoyed the view now and again," he confessed, an evil smirk growing on his face. Who said that he couldn't have a bit of fun with it? Potter blushed again, but he rolled his eyes now.

"You're a prat," Potter informed him.

Draco laughed. "Old news," he said offhandedly. "Come back with something better."

Potter snorted. "Goodnight, Malfoy," he muttered, pulling the covers over his body and rolling over.

"Night," said Draco softly, letting the smile take over his face now. The lights were drawn and Draco lay in silence for a few moments before he felt Potter's hand reach out and grab his. "What—?" he mumbled, before hearing quiet shifting above him. In the darkness, he could barely make out the faint lining of Potter's head above him... Still, Draco could have sworn that Potter was smiling.

"I just thought that we should hold hands while we're awake, too," Potter whispered.

Draco felt himself grow warm. He hadn't realised that Potter had ever noticed that. Draco was a light sleeper, so he tended to wake up during the night—well, most nights, that is. And every night he'd take Potter's hand in his before falling back asleep, knowing that if Potter should wake before him that it would look like an accident. Besides, Potter had never said anything about it before. Draco smiled. "I'd like that," he murmured back. He felt the other boy's presence leave from above him, and he lay there for a few more minutes, letting his thumb draw tiny circles on Potter's palm.

"Malfoy?"

"Hm?"

Potter was above him again. "I'm sorry that I didn't kiss you properly before," he said. "I didn't want to get carried away."

Draco was quiet. Was Potter really apologising for that? "You could make it up to me," he replied, anyway.

Potter was very still, as if he didn't know what that was supposed to mean, and Draco sighed somewhat irritably. Potter really couldn't be that dense... Without another word, Draco placed his hand on the nape of Potter's neck and brought the other boy's face directly towards his, kissing him full on the mouth—and almost gasped at the initial sensation of the kiss; sharp tingles and heat spread throughout his body like wildfire. With no immediate response from the other boy, he took full control, exploring Potter's mouth with tentative enthusiasm... Potter's lips were soft and full and they tasted of spearmint, the kind of toothpaste Potter used before bed. Had Potter been to the washroom?

Then, without warning, Potter suddenly began to react with equal speculation and Draco felt as if a jolt of electricity had shot through him—holy shit, it was even more marvelous with actual participation(!). Potter lips were slow, now moving languidly against Draco's, but they soon grew more insistent, and before long he was nibbling and sucking at Draco's mouth with gusto. Oh, fuck. It was almost sinful_—_Potter was nearly caressing Draco's bottom lip. Caressing! Draco let out a soft moan, not even caring that Potter could hear it. The sound seemed to do something to the other boy, and Potter shifted so that he was now on top of Draco. They paused for a moment, staring at each other with heavy breaths.

Potter's mouth was slightly pink and swollen, but he didn't seem to realise it. The boy only pressed down on Draco, a strange, animalistic glint in his eye, and Draco realised that Potter was taking control, and oh, it didn't even matter—couldn't—it felt so fantastic that Draco wouldn't even dream of telling Potter to stop. Was that wrong? He ran his hands down Potter's gloriously naked chest. Potter grinned now, still glowing, and dove down to take heed to Draco's throat.

Draco gasped. "Oh my god—" he moaned loudly, unable to keep quiet any longer. "Potter, oh!"

Potter ignored him, biting and sucking at Draco's throat and jaw, and then planting tiny kisses where Draco was sure there would be red marks forming. It was as if Potter was striking at him, and then comforting him once more... The other boy started to move down Draco's body, and Merlin, they were both painfully aroused at this point. Draco had never been this turned on in his whole damned life.

"P-P-Potter!" he stuttered. "Please, I can't, I need more—"

Potter seemed to understand and curled his fingers around the trim of Draco's bottoms. But just as he was about to pull them down, the curtains shot apart around the bed, exposing them to the night air. Both boys froze in the act.

Nott was standing there with an annoyed expression on his face. "Really guys, if I _wanted_ to hear two blokes having obnoxious and unnecessarily loud sex, I'd rent a gay porno," he remarked with sarcasm. "At least use a Silencing charm before you fuck, would you?"

Draco heard Blaise snicker a couple feet away. "Why rent porn when you've got a free show in the next bed, Nott?" the boy asked slyly, causing everybody in the room to give him matching glares.

"When did you guys even come in?" Potter demanded, looking almost murderous. "I thought you were all in the Common room."

"Weasley couldn't take the heat," Blaise announced. "He didn't want to give me a blowjob, so he threatened Pansy that he'd sabotage their project if she didn't let him go... And then Longbottom got scared, so Granger had to take them back to Gryffindor. I mean, honestly."

Potter gaped at him.

"I don't see the problem," Nott said, grinning a little now.

Blaise shrugged. "Beats me."

"Hey, here's an idea," Draco said darkly, glaring at his two dormmates with equal amounts of vexation. "Why don't you both think long and hard about that after you shut the fucking curtains and go the fuck to bed."

Nott raised an eyebrow. "We all want to get the fuck in bed, Malfoy, trust me. But, sure." He shot Draco an evil smile. "I suppose you've got a _long and_ _hard_ prospect of your own to take care of anyways, don't you?"

Draco only stared him down, now remembering that his friends had heard Draco piteously moaning Potter's name and begging him for more. Great. Of course, it was just icing on the metaphorical cake that they had also seen Potter clearly dominating a willing and submissive Draco. He pursed his lips. No. Draco Malfoy was _not_ submissive.

"Fine," Nott huffed, after receiving no response from Draco. "Night."

"Goodnight, _boys_," Blaise added. Draco only stared.

There was a long, heavy silence after the curtains whipped shut and the darkness reclaimed itself. Well, the mood was completely ruined now. Draco couldn't get it back even if he tried_—_all he could think of now were the taunting snickers of his two nosy friends. He glanced up at Potter, who was looking down at him, and nodded his head. Potter rolled off of Draco to his own side again; he seemed to feel the same way.

"Um. Night, Malfoy," Potter said quietly.

Draco grunted a little in response and turned over, trying to ignore his ever present hard-on. He wondered if Potter was as uncomfortable as he was right now—although by the looks of it, he most certainly was. Before Draco could complain or sulk, however, Potter grabbed Draco's hand before curling up next to him. And Rebecca, who had been pushed off to the side during the tryst, was now snuggled between them. By then, Draco could hardly even bring himself to frown.

**~x~**

"Aw, fuck."

Draco peered into the mirror, inspecting the bright red, angry marks that Potter had left all over his throat and collarbone. Literally, _all over_. Merlin, it had seemed like a good idea at the time... Of course, he was never trusting his own judgement ever again when it came to Potter and snogging. Disastrous. Draco sighed and pulled a grey cashmere turtleneck over his head with a frown. After, he threw his school robes over it. It certainly wasn't in the dress code, but Draco couldn't risk walking around with a grand display of love bites given to him by Harry Potter—and there was no way that Draco was going to request Professor Snape to help him with his Glamour charm (unfortunately, Draco wasn't very good at it). This would have to do for now.

From the other side of the dorm, Blaise glanced over and smirked. "Nice look, Draco. Very new age. But I'm afraid that it's covering up some of your best features." He snickered and winked at both Draco and Potter, who was currently dressing as well.

Potter shot Draco an apologetic look. "Sorry about that."

Draco shrugged. "I don't mind them, really," he lied. "As long as you intend to let me give you some."

Potter's eyes brightened. "Oh, I intend."

Draco smiled and sauntered over towards the other boy, letting Potter give him a proper kiss, for Blaise's sake. The other Slytherin was still snickering loudly. Draco pulled away from Potter and sighed. "Now out, Zabini." Blaise gave them a thumbs-up before walking out of the room and Draco turned back to Potter.

"So… what are we doing now?" Potter questioned, searching Draco's eyes carefully.

Draco tilted his head. "What do you _want_ to do?"

Potter gazed at him a bit longer. "This," he murmured.

Draco didn't even hesitate. He clutched Potter's waist and brought him closer; Potter tensed up slightly as Draco began kissing and sucking at his throat, the way Potter had the night before. Draco smiled with satisfaction as he saw the unmistakable red marks begin to form on Potter's lovely skin. "Me too," he whispered in Potter's ear now, letting the ghost of his breath send a shiver down the other boy's spine.

Potter just smiled, dazed. He didn't seem to mind that Draco had given him matching bites. "So we're... a thing now?" he asked.

Draco thought for a moment. "Yes." He glanced at Potter.

"Okay."

"Do you want to keep it a secret?"

The other boy just shrugged. He didn't seem to care either way—and that suited Draco just fine. Better than fine, actually.

"Well, shall I loan you a jumper then?" Draco asked now, gesturing towards Potter's now-marked throat. Draco was all-too-aware that Potter didn't own turtlenecks—or any decent clothing, for that matter, and he was right. Potter needed all the help he could get.

Potter grinned. "Gimme a red one," he said, obviously just to spite Draco.

"Do I look like a bloody _Gryffindor_?" Draco snapped. "No, take black. You look fit in darker colours, I must say."

Potter just snorted and let Draco give him a black turtleneck; it was also cashmere, so Draco promptly warned Potter not to ruin it with his infamous incompetence. Potter had just snorted again before grabbing his things and leading the way to the Great Hall. Draco shook his head and followed.

As soon as they had arrived at the table for breakfast, Blaise and Nott had given them knowing looks at their matching turtlenecks peeping out from under their robes. Draco glared, daring either of them to say anything about it, and of course, Blaise could not resist.

"Where are we going, guys? Family vacation to the Alps?" Blaise asked innocently, tossing a spoon of eggs onto his breakfast plate.

"Shouldn't Rebecca have one too, then?" Nott added, in the same tone. "I reckon it gets rather cold up there. I hope you've gotten enough rest—by the way, how did that_ long and hard_ thing work out for you two last night? Good?"

Blaise guffawed. Draco could not have glared harder—but his hexes might do the trick. His hand twitched near the wand in his robes pocket, but Potter stopped him before he could do anything. Draco gave the other boy a calculating look, but Potter only smiled and laced his fingers through Draco's underneath the table. Now Draco couldn't help but take a deep breath and smile back. Honestly, Potter was doing wonders for his temper—and that was something that Draco had never thought he'd say before.

"Laugh all you want, fellows," Potter said casually, piling his own plate with food. "You're not invited."

"Skiing is for fairies anyway," Nott countered sourly.

Blaise sniffed. "I've never fancied it."

"That's funny, because you'd need ice to treat a_ burn_." Potter smiled politely.

Blaise only rolled his eyes and Nott scoffed at him. Draco grinned at Potter and Potter winked back, squeezing Draco's hand gently. Draco felt his heart jump, wanting to kiss Potter right then and there—honestly, the more time Potter spent with the Slytherins, the more impressed Draco grew. However, Draco refrained from giving the whole Great Hall an early morning show and just squeezed Potter's hand back. Oh, it was so nice to feel wanted. Draco had never experienced this feeling, this feeling that somebody cared about him... well his mother had cared about him, but that was different. Completely different. This was the kind of concern that made Draco's skin crawl with pleasure and his body tingle with anticipation. Furthermore, it wasn't just anybody—it was Harry Potter. Harry Potter fancied him. Harry Potter cared about him. Harry Potter wanted him. That alone could make_ anyone_ feel special.

**~x~**

Later that day, Potter and Draco walked to Marriage Sex and Family together side-by-side, chatting absently; Rebecca was cradled in Potter's grasp. It had been a rather uneventful day so far, considering the night before. But Draco liked it that way: and he liked that things with Potter had not gotten all weird or different or too relationship-y. They were still... friends. Draco watched Potter's expressions shift as he talked about something—Quidditch or another matter—with varied levels of interest. It was really nice.

Class had not started yet when Draco and Potter walked in, and Granger and Weasley called Potter over to chat. Draco trailed after him, not quite sure whether or not he was supposed to.

"Hey Harry," Granger greeted brightly. "And Malfoy, hey."

Draco gave her a genuine smile, still feeling a bit bad from the previous night. "Granger, it's lovely to see you," he said.

Weasley looked at him as though he'd gone mad, but Granger beamed. "The feeling's mutual," she assured him. Draco saw her steal a stern glance towards Weasley; however, when the redhead looked away to roll his eyes at Potter, Granger's expression went from scolding to longing instead. Ah. Draco raised his brows. So Granger really _did_ fancy the Weasel. How had Draco not noticed that before? Especially in Sixth year, when Weasley had gone out with that Gryffindor slut... Lavender Brown or some other...

"Hey, Malfoy?" Potter asked, bringing his attention back. "Could you hold Becca for a second, I've got to get something out from my bag."

"Give her here, Potter," Draco muttered, scooping Rebecca into his arms before catching a glimpse of Granger staring at them with a slightly incredulous look on her face. He frowned at her. "What?"

She wrinkled her brow. "You… Why do you still call each other by surname?" she asked. "Aren't you… I mean, last night, didn't you get—"

Draco snorted. Potter grinned. "Hermione, I know that it's difficult for you to believe, but Malfoy and I have been calling each other by these names for as long as we've known each other," Potter explained. "They've kind of… stuck. I don't know. Do you mind it, Malfoy?"

Draco shrugged. "I feel exactly the same way," he confessed.

Potter's grin grew and Draco felt light again. It was nice how in sync they were sometimes.

"Sit down, children."

By now, Snape had sauntered into the room with a dramatic gesture, and all of the students scrambled for their seats and waited for his instruction, as per usual. The man narrowed his eyes. "Today we will be continuing our trust exercises," he sneered. "You should have reached the CPR portion by now. This is a procedure that Muggles use if one has come close to drowning to death. We shall have a demonstration before we begin."

Draco smirked as he noticed Snape carefully avoiding him and Potter—the big git wouldn't pull that stunt again as a result of last time. After the class had watched Longbottom and Lovegood practise what looked like to be an excuse for snogging, they were all released to start on the exercise themselves. Draco couldn't wait. He and Potter went to their little corner and sat down.

"Ready for this?" Potter asked, pushing his sleeves up.

Draco appraised him. "You first," he insisted.

Potter raised an eyebrow, but lay down on his back anyways. Draco leaned over him and grinned. Of course, he liked it better this way—him towering over Potter with the upperhand... at least, it gave him a bit more validation after what had happened with Blaise and Nott. Besides, he'd never pass up a chance to snog Potter first, and in public, too. But just as he was about to plant his lips on Potter's, he heard a familiar drawling voice pipe up behind him.

"Judging by your previous _endeavours_, Mr. Potter, I am reluctant to ask, but why do you continuously insist on breaking the dress code in my classroom?" Snape boomed, causing Draco to rise from his crouching position. Snape eyed him as well. "And you, Mr. Malfoy, I expect better of you. Just because I assigned you to be a couple does not mean that you must wear coordinating outfits to class." Snape's mouth broke out into a satisfied smirk as the students around them tittered. "I must ask you to change into the proper uniform," he drawled.

"Wait—" Potter lifted himself off of the ground and held his hand out in a feeble attempt to block himself from another unwanted surprise spell. "We can't do that, we'd miss precious class time... Besides, we'll change after class, won't we, Malfoy?" Draco nodded, though he knew that it was a weak attempt and Snape would never allow it. They were doomed.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "You will do as I say, Potter, or I will be forced to take the matter into my own hands."

"You don't want a repeat of last time, do you, Professor?" Potter asked, his green eyes flashing in challenge.

Snape grinned malevolently. "Ah, but I will be conjuring up clothing for you, not taking it away," he pointed out. "Unless you have something else to hide... If that is the case, then I am deeply intrigued. What is it, Potter?"

Potter's strong gaze faltered. "I—"

"Right, that is what I assumed." Snape lifted his wand and pointed it at the two of them. Draco shut his eyes tightly and felt his clothing shift around him, and suddenly, the skin on his neck was a lot cooler than it had been before. He cracked one eye open and saw Snape staring at their matching marks. "Well, well, gentlemen," he said loudly. "Coordinating outfits _and_ coordinating love bites. That is positively charming."

Everyone had turned to watch and was staring at them now, whispering and pointing at the red marks littering their throats. Oh, bloody hell. This wasn't the way that Draco had imagined their first coming-out to be. He turned slowly to Potter, whose face was frozen in a mix of shock and mortification, and sighed. The Gryffindor was clearly on the verge of a magical breakdown.

"Potter, this is not the time," Draco hissed. "Don't..."

Potter grimaced. "Malfoy, I..."

"This is why you two should have gone to the Alps!" Blaise shouted from across the room.

Draco scowled at him before turning towards his professor, who was still staring down at them expectantly. Draco gave him a pleasant nod. "Excuse us, Professor, for we have been excessively rude," he said. "Of course, we only wish to participate in our general education."

Then, without warning, Draco lunged at Potter and knocked him to the floor again, earning himself another look of shock from the Gryffindor. Draco just gave him a saucy wink and leaned down. "Fuck 'em," he whispered, before capturing Potter's mouth in a heated kiss. Draco barely heard the shouts and catcalls surrounding them; he only heard Potter's soft sighs and felt Potter's hands on his collar and the way his lips moved...

"That is enough!" Snape bellowed, his normally sallow face an unattractive shade of red. "I—I shall not tolerate this foolish behaviour in my classroom!"

Draco sat up now, both him and Potter panting a little from their tryst. He grinned sweetly at Snape. "But Professor, we are only fulfilling today's lesson," he insisted, watching as the famed wordsmith actually fumbled for a response. "Cardiopulmonary resuscitation, was it not?"

**Author's Note: LOL**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Hello! Hope you are all having a good day (or night, I don't know when you read this). Draco's POV.**

Chapter 17

Draco sighed, tapping his fingers idly against the desktop and staring out the window at the falling snow. It was strange having a view of the castle grounds in his room, and even stranger sharing the space with a bunch of rowdy Gryffindors, but for some reason, Draco had easily grown used to the change in atmosphere. And sure, Weasley was aggravating and the other three were just as to be expected, but Gryffindor Tower and its occupants were surprisingly less boorish and repugnant than he had let himself believe before—not that Draco's new status with the Potter clan hadn't helped him quite a bit... His new part-time dormmates had had no choice but to remain cordial with him lest they wished to face the wrath of a very powerful, very smitten Harry Potter. Draco smiled to himself at the thought. It had been no small victory to witness the looks on Weasley's and Finnigan's faces when Potter had first announced that any funny business in the dorms while Draco was around would not be permitted... but of course, Potter had to go and ruin it all by turning to Draco and informing him that the same rules applied to him. _No funny business._ Draco snorted. Please—as if anyone would be _laughing_ if Draco had directed one of his famous hexes at them.

But all in all, life was good. The past couple of weeks had gone by so quickly; alternating rooms was almost second nature to him and Potter now. Draco glanced out the window once more. Speaking of Potter, the idiot had insisted on playing Quidditch outside with Weasley, Thomas, and Finnigan—which was absolutely ridiculous, in Draco's opinion. Of course, he had warned Potter of the biting cold and frigid snow, but Potter had just laughed and then Weasley had asked if Draco had wanted to join them—apparently the 'no funny business' thing had had the redhead slowly warming up to the idea of Draco's constant presence, as he was starting to include Draco more and more in dorm activities these days. Honestly, Draco didn't know whether to be offended or amused by that. It was a rare thing for him to witness a calm Weasel.

Anyway, Draco had refused the offer as kindly as he possibly could (in short, he hadn't made Weasley boil or cry), and Potter had grinned and kissed Draco on the nose before running off with Weasley to play. Gods. Draco could still feel the heat on his cheeks from that gesture—it was ridiculous, really, but the whole nose-kissing thing had become a bit of a game to them. Because it was so sickeningly sweet and girly and childish, Draco had protested the kiss from the very moment Potter had first tried it... so of course, Potter had taken that as a challenge and now pecked Draco on the nose whenever he damn well felt like it. Draco still protested, and he still blushed and grumbled and sulked... But deep, deep down, he supposed he actually fancied it quite well. At least Potter was showing that he cared.

As if Summoned, Draco heard the voices of the Potter clan behind him and he turned around to find Potter, Finnigan, Longbottom and Thomas all charging through the doorway, shouting and grabbing for warm, dry clothing to change into—each boy was soaking wet, flecks of snow still fresh on the tops of their heads, and Draco smirked at Potter; the Gryffindor's lips were positively blue and he was shivering to no end.

"Merlin, you lot look cold," Draco remarked, still grinning. "I wonder who could have predicted that? Oh, that's right. _Me_!"

"Shut up," Weasley muttered, with Finnigan, Longbottom and Thomas uttering similar phrases in the background. Draco only laughed.

Potter shook his hair out over a towel on the floor and rolled his eyes. "Don't act so smug, Malfoy," he said. "At least we had fun this afternoon."

"I had fun!" Draco insisted, gesturing at the desk he was sitting at to prove his point.

"There's nothing there," Finnigan said, and Draco scowled at him. Now Potter laughed.

"Ha ha ha," Draco snapped, and then glared at his boyfriend. "I guess _someone_ doesn't want any tonight."

Potter stopped laughing. "Malfoyyyyyy," he whinged.

"No," said Draco.

Potter walked over to Draco and plopped down on his lap before leaning in really close to Draco's face. "Please forgive me, I promise I'll be good," he pleaded, in a voice that was bordering on absurd. Yet, it was also strangely sexy. "I'll do _anything_."

"Sweet Merlin," Thomas groaned. He was ignored.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

"Whatever you want," Potter promised, grinning.

Draco smirked and glanced over at Weasley. "Hey, do you still have that leather whip thing?" he asked innocently.

"Are you serious?" Weasley exclaimed, throwing a dry jumper over his head and shooting Draco a murderous glare. "I told you already, it's not a whip, Malfoy—it's a _belt_."

"Then why does it have a huge handle thing on the end?"

Weasley frowned. "It's a special kind of—oh, don't be a prat! How do you even know that it has a handle? I didn't show it to you!"

"You didn't have to," Draco remarked matter-of-factly. "It's in your trunk."

"_Why_ the bloody hell were you in my trunk!"

"Malfoy," Potter warned, before Draco could respond. "_Don't._"

Draco pursed his lips and said nothing—instead, he raised an eyebrow at Weasley as if to say 'I'm not done with you' and then proceeded to inspect his nails. Weasley shot him a dirty look before turning to leave the room, muttering under his breath; Finnigan threw his arms around both Thomas and Longbottom and led them out as well. Draco waited until they were all out before he looked back at Potter and kissed him on the cheek. Gods! It was like _ice_.

"That wasn't very nice, Malfoy." Potter leaned in and brushed his cool lips against Draco's. "Ron's gonna have it out for you all night now."

Draco shivered at the contact. "As if I give a fuck," he said.

"You should," Potter remarked, now letting his still-icy cheek graze past Draco's to whisper in his ear. "Teasing a Gryffindor is never a smart idea."

Draco gulped. "Even if it's you?"

Potter drew back and gave him an innocent smile. "_Especially_ if it's me," he said.

_Damn it_. Draco rolled his eyes and pretended not to be turned on. He leaned in close to Potter's face and smiled too. "I promise you nothing," he declared, before pressing his mouth to Potter's properly. The instant chill ran through him immediately and his lips were protesting the cold as he deepened the kiss. Draco didn't care. Their molded skin was like ice to fire, cool to warm, sun to snow; opposites in every way. Just like them. Potter stopped and nuzzled his frosty nose into Draco's warm hair.

"Good," Potter murmured.

Draco tried not to smile again. "Watch the gel now, Potter," he replied. The other boy only grinned and snuggled closer to Draco, and Draco sighed and rested his flushed face into the crook of Potter's neck. There, he breathed in the scent of Potter: of clean linens, fresh, cool air; the slight tinge of dry sweat and a hint of strawberry shampoo. It wasn't a particularly enticing aroma... it wasn't particularly anything. And yet, Draco couldn't get enough of it. It was _Potter_.

Suddenly, Potter stopped cuddling and leaned back to inspect Draco's face. "I forgot to ask," he remarked. "Did you find someone to babysit Rebecca today?"

Draco sighed. Trust Potter to remember the baby doll/school assignment at a time like this. He grabbed Potter's wrist to look at the Muggle watch he had on. "Yeah, Blaise has her until four," Draco announced, peering at the device once more and frowning. "That's in... thirty minutes, perhaps we should go—"

Potter grabbed Draco's hand, pulling him out of his seat and leading him towards the door before he could properly finish. Draco followed Potter into the Gryffindor common room then; it was alive with noise and activity, as usual. Potter kept a firm grip on Draco's hand as they travelled through the room amidst the joyous shouting and general bustle. "Oi, Harry!" It was Weasley yelling over the commotion. He was sitting on the couches by the fireplace with Finnigan, Thomas, and Longbottom. "Fancy a game, mate?"

Draco frowned and tilted his head. There were several boards of wizard chess out on tables in front of the couches, and Weasley was already set up at one of them and beckoning them over. Potter grinned and shook his head before turning to Draco. "Malfoy, go play with him," he said. "I'll go get Rebecca from Slytherin."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Against Weasley?" he asked, incredulous. "Come on, Potter... if this is about earlier, I can get back on his good side in some other manner—besides, you know how I play. I'll destroy him and he'll be even more angry with me."

Potter laughed and his eyes glittered in a way that made Draco uneasy. "I think you'll be surprised," he remarked.

Draco scoffed at that, but he made his way over to Weasley and the chess board anyways. "Very well then," he declared, sitting down and folding his hands together on the board. "Let's do this, Weasley." Weasley gave him an appraising look before seemingly deciding it was okay to shrug and set up the game.

"Play nice, boys," Potter called, turning around and leaving the Common room.

Draco nodded sweetly and waited until Potter was gone before leaning in towards Weasley. "I don't play nice, Weasley," he hissed. "I play to the _death_."

"Fantastic, Malfoy," Weasley replied, now with a growing grin. "So do I."

**~x~**

Almost two hours later, Potter came bounding back into the Common room with Rebecca in his arms. "Hey, guys, sorry I took so long," he announced, striding up to the couches and settling down into the seat next to Draco. "Blaise distracted me with a—"

"Shh!" Draco held his hand up to Potter's face. "Not now."

Potter frowned, confused. Draco and Weasley were currently surrounded by a small group of onlookers; Thomas, Finnigan, and Longbottom were still watching intently, Weasley's sister and another Gryffindor girl sat nearby as well. The aura was crazy intense—the moment they had started playing, Draco had felt the air get ten times heavier; everything seemed to move in slow motion. It was the perfect game, damn it. Potter peered over at the chess board now and raised his brows.

"What's going on?"

"Potter!" Draco exclaimed. "A bit of _silence_, if you will!"

At Potter's silent balking, Thomas took pity on him. "Malfoy is like, _this_ close to losing," he whisper-explained, gesturing towards the game board. "They've been in a lockdown for almost four moves now... And Ron's got Malfoy's Queen."

"You shut the fuck up, Thomas," Draco growled.

Weasley grinned. "Sore loser, Malfoy?"

Draco glared at him. "You shut the fuck up too, Weasley?" he retorted in the same tone.

"Ah, chess," Finnigan declared contently.

Potter chuckled and leaned back in his chair, cradling Rebecca in his arms as he did. "You two know that dinner is in ten minutes, right?" he asked, looking from Draco to Weasley with a slightly amused expression on his face.

Before Draco could hash out a biting response to that, Ginny Weasley piped up to Potter's rescue. "If you say anything else, Harry, you're going to be Malfoy's next 'shut the fuck up' victim," she said. "Trust me, we've all gotten at least a few by now."

Draco smiled a bit without taking his eyes off the board. "Smart girl," he remarked. "It's nice to know that there is at least _one_ Gryffindor in this bloody place that has a bit of decent common sense—even if she does happen to be a redhead."

Weasley raised an eyebrow and moved his piece across the board. "And my _sister_, Malfoy, so I'd advise that you stop there," he said. Then he grinned. "Also, checkmate."

What? Draco shook his head in disbelief and gaped at the board. "But... I... and_ you_... and this... _What_?"

"You've rendered Malfoy speechless, Ron," Longbottom observed, peering at Draco with interest and some amusement.

"This is such a beautiful day," Finnigan declared. Thomas nodded, laughing and agreeing with him. Draco stopped gaping for a moment to glare at the two of them before resuming his previous activity. How did this happen? He never lost a game of wizards chess before.

Weasley was still grinning. "Good game, Malfoy," he said now. "Harry was right—you _are_ exceptional."

Draco gave Weasley a sceptical once-over before shaking his head again and sighing. "Yeah, I suppose he was," he muttered, shooting Potter a silent don't-you-dare look before turning back to Weasley. "We _are_ going to have a rematch, though. I am not losing to you again."

"Looking forward to it," Weasley agreed.

Although Draco was disappointed that he had lost the game (to a Weasley, no doubt!), he was actually sort of intrigued by the new competition—he had never known anyone good enough to challenge him at wizards chess... and now, he'd found someone. Draco had to take what he could get: even if it was Weasley. Besides, if Draco wanted to spend more time with Potter, he was going to have to get used to the redheaded best friend as well. Obviously, Draco had known that going into the relationship... Potter whooped now and gave Weasley a high-five before turning to Draco and grinning at him brightly. Draco couldn't help but grin back. He wasn't complaining, honestly, he could handle a few antagonising encounters with the Weasel—Potter was worth all of the trouble.

"Come on, champ, I'm hungry," Potter announced, taking Draco's hand with one arm and holding Rebecca in the other; he pulled Draco away from the others and headed out of the Common room into the hallways before his friends could catch up. Of course, once Draco and Potter were out of Gryffindor Tower, or the Slytherin dungeons, things weren't as laidback and simple—the incident in Marriage Sex and Family a few weeks ago had spread like wildfire, and soon everyone in the castle had learned of their _scandalous_ relationship. And sure, they'd taken a lot of shit for it initially, and sometimes Draco found himself prone to repulsed glares or hushed whispers as he passed students in the corridors, but for the most part everything was all right—at least the clamour had died down, because Draco knew that Potter hated the unnecessary attention. To be honest, Draco wasn't too thrilled for it either. Thankfully, the Headmaster had promised punishment to any student who dared to go to the press about anything involving Potter's social life, so the whole ordeal was kept under wraps.

As Potter and Draco approached the Great Hall entrance, however, a Fifth year Ravenclaw bloke standing near the front doors froze and gaped at the sight of them. Draco raised an eyebrow and looked at Potter, who looked back at him with the same expression. Honestly. Potter smiled slightly now and squeezed Draco's hand tighter before leaning in and giving him a proper peck on the mouth—Draco could hear the Ravenclaw bloke squeak from where he was standing. Well, it wasn't as if he and Potter weren't going to milk it when they could.

"Let's get dinner, love," Potter said loudly, as he broke the kiss. Draco nodded and then glanced over at the Ravenclaw with a satisfied smirk.

Merlin, life was fantastic.

**~x~**

After an uneventful dinner and a few study rounds at the library, Draco and Potter were now making their way to the Potions classroom for their weekly questioning still hand in hand. Despite Draco's general dislike for public affection, he didn't particularly mind the hand-holding. For some reason, it made him feel more powerful as he walked down the corridors—he could gaze upon each passing student as if to say, 'Fuck off, Harry Potter is all mine', and honestly, how could that _not_ represent ultimate dominance? Of course, there was also a few other lovely perks, such as the softness of Potter's skin or the warmth of his touch and so on and so on. But Draco wasn't about to get sappy. At least he could pretend it was all about the power.

When they entered the classroom, routine set in as usual: Draco went to Snape's front desk and picked up the surveys, and Potter scooted the worktables together and settled Rebecca down between them. After they had both finished their jobs and sat in their regular seats, Draco took out a quill and peered at the parchment in front of him. "Oh, look," he remarked dryly. "There are fourteen pages instead of ten this week."

Potter wrinkled his nose. "Do you reckon he's trying to kill us?"

"Nah." Draco sighed. "I'm rather certain he'd fancy killing us in some way that involves cashmere turtlenecks..."

Potter snorted at that. "Perhaps he'd gag us with them and let us drown in an expanding tub," he mused.

"Very likely," Draco agreed. "Slow and painful is his forte."

Potter laughed now. "Well, until that exciting day arrives, I suppose we've really got to finish these damned surveys... So. Tell me something that I don't know about you." His quill was poised expectantly over the parchment.

Draco thought for a moment. "Anything?"

"Yes."

He took a deep breath. Perhaps it was time to let Potter in on the whole truth about his past. "I… I was a covert spy for the Order during the war," Draco confessed. "For Dumbledore, mostly. To be honest, I was on the Light side before the real fighting even started." He stole a quick peek at Potter—at the very least Draco had expected him to look startled or shocked, however, Potter hadn't even flinched. Instead, he just wrote it down. Draco frowned. "Excuse me, Potter? This is a _life-altering_ confession here. Why aren't you surprised?"

Potter finished writing and looked up at Draco. He smiled a little. "Honestly, Malfoy, I think I've suspected that." He raised an eyebrow. "For a long time now."

Draco stared back at him, now surprised himself. "Really?" he asked. "Why?"

Potter shrugged. "I don't know. You were never anything that I couldn't handle... No offense."

Draco crossed his arms. "I don't understand," he muttered. "Didn't you hate me?"

"No..." Potter said slowly. "I never hated you. I mean, I had always thought that I did, you know, back in the early days—but I didn't know what hate was then, Malfoy." Potter paused and frowned. "Not until I met _him_."

Draco could feel remorse twist up in his chest. He remembered the way it had felt during the war—when everything was uncertain and he couldn't trust anything and he couldn't let anyone into his life. It had been awful. But if Draco were to be honest, he wasn't so surprised at Potter's admission... he had felt that way as well. Sure, Draco had thought that he hated Potter for a long while—hell, he had thought it from the very moment Potter had rejected him at the beginning of their First Year—but as time passed, Draco had realised that he didn't hate Potter. In fact, Draco had found that his and Potter's situations were eerily similar... and somehow, had grown curious of it. And yet, Draco had continued to antagonise Potter, because, well, he didn't know what else there was to do.

"I get it," Draco murmured, pursing his lips. "... Even though I acted like a complete git to you at the beginning of this year, I had felt it too. I mean, I had no reason to fight, I just... I don't know. It seemed easier than anything else."

Potter nodded. "Sure, I did the same thing," he said. "For some reason, I had thought that if I fought with you, everything would be just as it was before the war—stupid, I know, but I couldn't help it even if I tried. I had sort of believed that recapturing those days would take me back, you know? To the prime in my life." He bit his lip and smiled sadly at Draco. "I suppose I didn't think that I had much to look forward to."

Draco raised his brows. "Honestly? Me too," he admitted.

"Hm. Sort of odd how alike we are, huh?" Potter hesitated and glanced down at the parchment in front of him, as if just remembering its presence. "I suppose that could be my answer for the question, by the way." He waited for Draco to write the response before peering at the next question and reading it aloud. "Name an important someone in your life. Why are they important to you?"

Draco was quiet for a moment. "My mother," he said finally. "I suppose she was the one who taught me how to live for myself."

Potter nodded silently and scooted his chair closer. His arm just barely brushed Draco's. "You should write letters," he suggested. "I mean, to your mother... Send them to the Manor or something. Even if she'll never get them, it helps, trust me—I mean, I write letters to Sirius and Lupin every so often whenever I feel especially alone." He smiled a bit. "It makes me feel better. Like they're listening to me somehow."

Draco inspected Potter's face for a moment before responding. "I think I'll try that," he said softly. Then he leaned back and raised one eyebrow. "So how about you, then? Anyone important?"

Potter shrugged. "I can't choose just one. Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore... I'm blessed to have so many people who love and support me. I mean, it's incredible, really—it's not like they had to do any of the things that they did for me..." He paused. "I'm... lucky."

"It's nice to be surrounded by people who care," Draco agreed, peering at Potter carefully once more. "Almost like_ family_."

Potter's eyebrow twitched a little at that; however, he was good at pretending it hadn't phased him. "I suppose so," he murmured. "But I mean, nobody compares to family, right?"

Draco sighed. Family had always been a touchy thing between the two of them and they hardly ever talked it through—although, both he and Potter inherently knew that they were each messed up beyond repair because of it. It was almost fate, how their similar paths had crossed... and maybe Draco hadn't wanted to jinx their good fortune, or perhaps he hadn't wanted to rock the relationship boat just yet. However... Draco gazed at Potter again. Sometimes, he just had to wonder: how did it_ feel_ to be known as a famed Saviour and icon of the Wizarding world—expected to be stronger than possible at all times, forced to put up facades of bravery even when all source of hope was lost? Potter should have the right to be afraid, to be uncertain, negative, or weak sometimes... Potter should have the right to _let go_. And for some reason, Draco wanted Potter to have that... with him._  
><em>

"Potter?" Draco asked now. "Do you... do you miss them terribly?"

Potter looked away and was quiet for a long, long time. He didn't have to ask whom Draco was referring to. "I want to," he admitted quietly. "I mean, gods, I really, _really_ want to. But I _can't_. No matter how hard I try, I can't miss my parents... It sounds awful, and I know that they loved me and that they sacrificed everything for me... but part of me sort of wishes that they hadn't, you know? Part of me wonders whether or not _living_ had been worth it—had it really been worth it to live knowing that I would never learn magic tricks from my dad or read stories with my mum, or watch them cheer me on at Quidditch matches or celebrate birthdays and holidays and _everything_ that seems so unimportant and stupid but for some reason keeps me up at night? I mean, I could have just_ died_ along with them and I wouldn't have to feel like this all of the time... And sometimes, I can't help but feel _angry _with them... For leaving me here." Potter shook his head and snuffled a bit. "I don't know, I honestly don't know what I'm talking about. It's coming out like uncontrolled sick, I didn't mean to unload on you like this—I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Draco said gently.

Potter stared at the wall and held his face in his hands for a few moments. "I know that I sound like a whingy orphan, and trust me, I wouldn't change a thing about how my life has played out so far—I know that I was _meant_ to kill Voldemort. I know that I've saved a lot of lives." He frowned and took a slightly shuddering breath. "But honest to Merlin, Malfoy, there is nothing that hurts more than dreaming of all of those selfish, simple 'what ifs'," he confessed. "And I swear, every time I do, my heart breaks just a little bit more."

Draco bit his lip—suddenly, all of the awful times that he'd made mean, petty jabs at Potter's deceased parents came flooding back into his memory until they were all screaming at him, taunting—and gods, for the love of everything holy in this universe, he had never felt like more of an arsewipe than he did at the moment. There was no excuse for it! Draco had always realised that it was a sore subject, and although he hadn't been explicitly aware of the magnitude of its effects, it was still rather wrong and he should have steered clear of it. No matter how much he had thought that he hated Potter... To be completely honest, Draco didn't know if he could ever make it right.

"Potter, I—" he started.

Potter shook his head. "No, it's okay."

"Honestly, if I had only known, I would have _never_—"

"I know," Potter interjected again, looking back at Draco now. His eyes were a bit red but he was smiling a little. "It kind of makes me feel a bit better."

Draco frowned. "It does?"

"Yeah." Potter laughed; albeit bitterly. "It's mental how much things can change when you actually get to know someone, you know? Makes me wonder whether or not we'd ever really known each other at all."

Potter was right. Draco took Potter's hand in his. "I'm... I'm _sorry_. I really am."

"Me too," Potter said, smiling still. He rested his head on Draco's shoulder. "Thank you for listening."

Draco didn't even protest Potter's gesture; he kissed the top of the other boy's head instead. "It's no trouble," he whispered. "I should've listened a long time ago."

**~x~**

A few days after the incident, Draco was already starting to feel a bit antsy from his lack of recent Slytherin contact—this tended to happen at the very end of each Gryffindor week—and he was positively itching to crack an insult or rude comment somewhere. He would settle for a biting look, even. Unfortunately for him, he was sitting in the common room with Potter, and at the moment, they were completely alone—it was the start of the week-end and most students were out visiting common rooms or playing in the snow... Of course, this meant that there was no one to target except for Potter himself... And it wasn't that Draco was scared or anything (he wasn't!), but he didn't think it wise to prod Potter in his home territory. Merlin knows what the Golden boy pegged as punishment. Draco sighed and twitched a bit in his seat.

Potter popped his head out from behind the Quidditch magazine he was reading and studied him for a moment. "You okay?" he asked.

Draco nodded stiffly. "Never better."

Potter peered at Draco for a while longer before shifting his entire body so that he was virtually sitting atop Draco's lap. Draco closed his own sad excuse for a magazine and threw it across the table in front of them. Potter grinned and did the same with his.

"You're bored, aren't you?" Potter mused.

Draco rolled his eyes. "What gave me away?"

Potter only grinned again and lunged forward, pinning Draco to the couch with one swift movement—he was kissing Draco before Draco could even properly react. Of course, then Draco tugged at Potter's jumper, pulling him closer, and Potter made a noise of approval; the kiss became more insistent as Potter tightened his grip on Draco's abdomen. Draco closed his eyes and let Potter kiss and claw and suck at him without restraint. Honestly, Potter was getting wilder by the day, pushing Draco to his limit until neither of them could take much more... Of course, Draco would always let Potter have more—he didn't know why, normally, he was the commanding one in the relationship—but here, Potter's control was simply too hot to resist.

The other boy had managed to rip off both of their school shirts and was currently working on trousers, all the while never removing his mouth from Draco's. Fuck, Potter had gotten quite quick stripping his clothes from his body—and Draco wasn't complaining. At all. However, this couch was rather scratchy against his bare back...

"Wait," Draco panted, pulling away from Potter for just a moment to look at him. "Shouldn't we take this back to the dorm?"

Potter raised an eyebrow and smiled. "No," he declared, squeezing Draco almost painfully. "We'll stay right here."

"Anyone could walk in right now, Potter."

Potter smiled again and leaned down to whisper in Draco's ear. "Let them," he hissed.

Draco shivered and immediately yanked Potter into another searing kiss, desperately trying to taste everything Potter, desperately trying to fight for domination; he tugged on Potter's Gryffindor tie, which was still on despite his lack of a shirt, pulling him closer and tugging at his hair. Potter shoved him in response and scratched at Draco's chest and stomach—gods, it felt _good_—Draco writhed unashamedly from Potter's touch, moaning and whimpering in a way that was altogether humiliating. Despite his better judgment, Draco let Potter ravage his chest and move down his throat; all he could do was stare down at Potter with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Potter's pants had somehow come off at this point and Draco tried not to cry as the skin-to-skin almost burned to the touch, his heart threatening to beat straight out of his chest... Draco closed his eyes again and let out a ragged breath, exposing more of his throat for Potter and trying not to think of how damn much he wanted to shove Potter onto the floor, mount him, and tell him to hurry the fuck up already... Finally, Potter was yanking at Draco's pants with one insistent hand, his hot mouth still roaming Draco's skin—

"Oh my god!" A shrill voice cried. Both boys stopped abruptly, frozen with shock, and Draco slowly opened his eyes. Oh,_ fuck_. It was Granger standing above them, her face scarlet with horror, with one hand over her mouth as if she had just realised she'd spoken aloud.

"Hermione!" Potter shouted, scrambling to sit up and cover his bits. "What the hell?"

Granger gaped for a moment longer before looking away sharply. "I'm sorry, I was looking for you and I heard strange noises so I—I didn't_ mean_—"

Draco pulled himself away from Potter and grabbed his school shirt from the floor, ignoring the wrinkles and pulling it over his head. His trousers were next. Then, he silently handed Potter his clothing; Potter took them gratefully and shoved them on as well. Granger was still adamantly looking away. "Granger, we're dressed," Draco drawled, pretending not to feel the horrible, uncomfortable tension in the room.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry," Granger said again, now glancing up at them sheepishly. "I don't know what to say."

Draco was about to retort with a 'how about _I'm leaving now_', but Potter spoke up first. "It's not a big deal," he lied. "We were almost finished anyways." _Almost_ was the key word here... Draco gave his boyfriend a dry look, but Potter steadily ignored him. Granger sighed.

"Good," she said. "Anyway, I just wanted to speak with you about that Charms assignment, but I suppose it can wait, considering, well..." She chuckled nervously. "If it helps, I didn't see everything."

Potter ran a hand through his hair. "Right. Well that's okay, Hermione," he said. "I mean, it's not like it's the first time you've seen too much."

Draco's head shot up and he glared at Potter. "What do you mean by _that_?" he snapped.

Potter's eyes widened considerably and he shook his head. "Nothing! I just meant that she's seen me before—I mean, on accident, because she was there with me—I mean, no, _fuck_—"

Granger cut him off. "For Merlin's sake, Harry, stop talking," she exclaimed, before turning to Draco. "I caught a quick glimpse that one time Snape vanished his clothes during Marriage and Family. It was nothing. Besides, it wasn't just me—Ron saw too. And probably many others."

"Hermione," Potter whinged. "You don't have to go into detail."

Draco shrugged and smirked now. "I figured as much," he admitted. "But to be honest, it doesn't actually matter anymore now that I know Potter swings for me. Stare at his bits all you want, Granger, I don't care. He's mine."

Granger turned a deep shade of red. "Thanks, Malfoy, but I'm going to try not to do that from now on—" She whirled around and fled for the portrait. "I'll see you guys later!"

As soon as she left, Potter tapped Draco's shoulder and folded his arms across his chest when Draco turned. "What was that about?" he demanded.

Draco smiled innocently. "What?"

"You played the fake-jealousy card. Why?"

"Because—" Draco raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms too. "You got us caught. You deserved ten seconds of agitation."

Potter pursed his lips. "You petty little git," he accused, falling on top of Draco's lap once more. "Go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow."

Draco smirked. "I don't know, I'm still rather pissed about the whole Granger thing..."

With that, Potter yanked Draco forward and kissed him hard on the mouth, cutting him off. Draco tried not to grin as he kissed Potter back—gods, Potter was irresistible. The Gryffindor nipped at Draco's lip playfully before he pulled away.

"How about now?"

Draco gave in. He grinned. "Fine," he said. "But you're buying, Potter."


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: Draco's POV.**

Chapter 18

_Dear Mother,  
>How are you? I'm back at Hogwarts and am doing well. I hope that you are all right. I miss you a lot.<em>

Draco shook his head angrily and crumpled the parchment, throwing it on the ground with exasperation—there were already several little crumpled balls of parchment surrounding his desk. Of course, Draco had been trying for hours to write something worthy of note, but he really didn't know what to say... It felt silly writing to someone who would never receive the letter; silly, because spouting off about his mundane worries didn't make him feel any closer to his mother than he already did. In fact, it made him feel like a fool. Draco glared at his ink-ridden fingertips—normally, he would have made an effort to keep them pristine, but he was in no mood to be proper... The irony was, Mother would have frowned upon his untidiness. The door to the dorm flew open then and Draco immediately clenched his fists lest it be Blaise, who would never let him live it down if he saw his inky fingers... But it was just Potter, clomping around the room with his snow-covered Quidditch boots, appearing to be searching for something. Draco sighed irritably.

"Potter, you're getting the floor all wet," Draco complained, glowering at the other boy's feet. "I'm wearing socks."

Potter grinned sheepishly before toeing off the boots. "Sorry," he apologised. "I was going to go out for a quick practise, but I can't find my gear..." He peered over at Draco's desk and made a noise of understanding. "Still trying to write to your mother?"

Draco made a face at all of the crumpled balls littering the area around him. "Yes," he grumbled. "Honestly, this is incorrigible. Everything I write sounds like absolute rubbish." He glared at Potter like it was his fault.

Potter just chuckled and leaned over his shoulder. "Let me see," he remarked. Draco pointed towards the floor and Potter picked up one of his attempts and unfolded it. After he was finished reading, Potter dropped it and sighed. "Honestly, Malfoy, it doesn't matter whether or not it's well written or witty. It's only important that it comes from here—" he put a finger on Draco's forehead. "And _here_—" he placed it on Draco's chest now. "It really doesn't have to be deep or significant. It could be about anything. Talk about your day, your thoughts, your fears... as long as it's from you. That I'm sure your mother would have loved to read."

Draco sighed and glanced down at his parchment again. "Fine, I'll try one more time," he muttered. "I think that Weasley has your gear, by the way. I saw him take it from your trunk last week-end."

Potter shook his head and started towards the door. "I'll go wrestle it from him," he said. "And then perhaps I'll go put on a show for the Slytherins downstairs. You know, Nott told me that I had a nice arse on my way here, and the rest of them agreed. I think that they're starting to take to me."

"Oh, fantastic," Draco remarked pleasantly. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind as I fucking castrate each and every one of them."

Potter winked at him, laughing as he left the room, and Draco grinned despite himself. He was actually quite relieved that more and more of the Slytherins were warming up to Potter; in fact, many of them had become good friends with the boy. But Draco was sure none of them would have any qualms about beating up the poor sap if Potter fucked up somehow and started amping up the Potter-ness. It was common knowledge that Slytherins were not genuine and sweet like Potter—well, at least, most weren't. Draco grabbed his quill and a new parchment. He had to stop thinking and just _write_.

_Dear Mother,_

_Two days ago I got the highest score in the class on my Arithmancy exam—higher than Hermione Granger's, who, by the way, is still a wreck about it. I wrote the event down in the book you gave me three Christmases ago, because I thought it was rather funny, and it really was. You should have seen her face. I also managed not to hex anyone in the past week... A record for me, as you know. Except, well, yesterday I told Potter that I would hex him if he mentioned me not hexing anyone—so naturally he did and I had to hex him for it. But honestly, I had warned him, so I don't really count it as much of anything. He's got a burn mark on his bum though. Also funny, I should write it in the book._

_Anyway. I know that if you were to actually read this, you wouldn't care much about any of that. I wouldn't even be writing if Potter hadn't made me do it. Mental, I know—it doesn't make sense, why should I listen to a prat that I've gone on and on about hating for the past eight years of my life? For some reason, it isn't that simple. In fact, it isn't simple at all.__ I fell for him. I mean, wow, Mother, if you could just see the way that he looks at me... It sounds insane, but I really haven't been this happy in so long. I think you would like him. I suppose you would have to, though, because he's your new son-in-law! I joke, I joke... but I am of age now, Mother—g__ods, it's been a while since I've seen you. Anyway, the 'marriage' is simply a school project Uncle Sev assigned us this year. He's the teacher for Marriage Sex and Family, can you believe it? You would laugh if you could see his face most days. _

_So. I miss you. I miss you so much and I know that this is probably a good idea, no; it's a fantastic idea, really... But I'm starting to hate it because it's making me more upset, it's making me think about these things that I've tried to repress within myself over this past year. The war is over. I've fought for what I believed in, I was invaluable help for the Light side, and he's gone now. You-Know-Who is gone. And I hope to Merlin, if you're still out there, that you're proud of me for it. It's all I've ever wanted... __I've regretted not telling you how much you mean to me more when I had the chance—you know that I'm not very good with expressing emotions. I'm working on it, I swear._

_Anyway, I've got to go. Potter will be back any minute; he's taking me to Hogsmeade this afternoon. Honestly, I've only just settled back into the Slytherin dorm and he wants to go out again... That reminds me, I've been living in the Gryffindor dorm every other week because of this Marriage project! It's not quite as awful as it would seem—although yes, there are moments where I just absolutely feel the need to rip out my own hair. Anyway, the reason why we have to switch dorms all the time is because Potter and I have a little baby girl—I mean, she's a doll, but she means a lot to us. Her name is Rebecca. I know you would love her. _

_Potter is probably storming his way up here as I write, so I really must go now. Honestly, Potter is always moving about and giving me a headache—especially when he's been out playing in the snow with his Gryffindors. Unfortunately for me, it happens rather often. Potter is really annoying. But... I suppose that I wouldn't change him even if I had the chance to. I love him just the way he is. __  
><em>

Draco stopped writing and his quill froze in his hand—he blinked rapidly and stared at the words he'd just written. Where had that come from? He quickly scratched out the last line_._

_I'll write later, I promise._

_Love, _

_Draco_

He folded the parchment carefully now and beckoned for his most trusted owl. "Take this to Mother's room," he murmured quietly, tying the letter to the owl's leg. "Make sure it doesn't go anywhere else." The owl let Draco finish and flew out the door—it had to fly through the castle to reach a window, since there were none in the Slytherin dungeons, but Draco had trained it specially himself to do so. He was confident in the owl's abilities.

Draco sat back now, thinking of what he'd accidentally written about Potter—of course, he'd been so caught up writing whatever came to his mind, pouring out his feelings without restraint, that he hadn't even realised he'd written a majority of the letter about Potter. But... did that really mean that Draco loved him? They'd only been together for a few weeks, Draco still didn't like public affection, and they hadn't gone, well, _all the way_ yet. But as he thought of it, his heart swelled; Draco pictured Potter's face morph into a grin whilst Draco teased him, when it was all scrunched up trying to concentrate in class, when it was stuffed with food at mealtimes, that faint flush that appeared on it after he'd been outside in the cold too long, the peaceful expression when he slept... Potter's face was always a beacon of emotion. And well, even if Draco didn't explicitly love Potter just yet... he _did_ love a lot of things about him. Without thinking, Draco pulled out another blank parchment and began writing again.

_Potter,_

_I don't know why I am writing to you, but for some reason, I can't stop thinking and I need to let it out—stop grinning, I know you are. I'm not a mushy sap; I'm just sick of how everything constantly seems to revolve around you. I mean, you're not *that* special. Honestly. _

_So. You're not gone or anything, but sometimes I think that I should talk to you more about, well, most things. Things that make me uncomfortable. Yeah, I know you don't get uncomfortable easily and that I'm probably a big fat git for being so stupid, but I can't help it around you. I really just want you to know how I feel. Gods. __I never used to be quite so sentimental before I started hanging around with you... I think you've changed me. Nice going, Potter—look what you've done. If it turns out to be permanent, I'll have to hex you again. With the ropes. And the blindfold. _

_Anyway, I want you to know but I also don't want you to know, because, well, I don't know. If you were to leave me knowing how I felt, I'd probably fly into a fit of self-deprecating rage and terror. But I suppose that you have the right to know... Prat. I'll be brief. I think that you're beautiful—inside and out, in every damn way. I think that you're smart, even though you don't realise it, and I reckon you could be smarter than all of us if you really tried. I think that you're the bravest person I have ever met; I think that you're the strongest person I will ever know. I think that you are a miracle come true. It's so surreal and I don't understand it, I don't think anyone does—you, least of all. I know that you believe that you're some kind of fuck-up, that you doubt whether or not you are a hero, but damn it, Potter, you are so thick! I mean, I have spent almost eight years begging for your attention and you didn't even realise it. _

_This has been far from brief, but now I can't stop. Let me tell you how incredible you are because you don't seem to know. Let me show you the way your eyes sparkle and your laugh jingles and how your smile could light up a nation. Let me remind you of how perfect you are to Rebecca. Because gods, one day, Potter... I hope that you have a baby girl. I hope that you will love her with all that you have. I mean it. She will be the luckiest daughter in the world._

_Yeah. Well, there is not a chance in hell that I am giving this letter to you now, so I might as well confess a few other things—and yes, there are more. It's pathetic, I know. Anyway, remember when we first started sharing a bed? I don't know if you'd ever noticed, but sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night and hold your hand. I definitely wanted you to kiss me at our fake marriage ceremony. I'm actually rather fond of your messy bird's nest hair. I love it when you kiss me on the nose and I pretend to loathe it because I know that you'll just do it more. You shatter my heart into a million pieces._

_I'll stop now, mainly because I know that you're probably going to arrive any second to force me to participate in some dull tripe down in Hogsmeade. Woe is me. I hope that you're happy that you're turning me into a bloody Gryffindor sap. Knowing you, you probably are._

_Love,_

_DM_

Draco folded the letter into a tiny square and placed it into his personal chest just as Potter barged into the room. Well, at least the prat's timing was impeccable—Draco glared at the other boy and the unnecessary noise that he was creating. Obviously, Potter had never heard of a thing called 'quietly'.

"Are you ready yet?" Potter asked, grabbing at Draco's arm and attempting to pull him out of his seat. Draco simply shoved him off.

"No, but you're the one who wanted me to write to my mother," Draco pointed out. He stood up on his own and strolled over to his dresser to find something more suitable to wear. It was fucking freezing outside, and Draco didn't want a repeat of Potter and the Boorish Quidditch Brigade. He picked out a jumper and inspected it carefully.

Potter sighed loudly. "Everyone's already gone down," he complained. "You're taking forever."

Draco shot him The Glare. "Maybe you should have stayed before, then."

"Maybe you should have gotten dressed before."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should shut the fuck up," he muttered.

Potter pretended not to hear him. Instead, he loped over and helped Draco pull his jumper over his head before leaning in and giving Draco a quick kiss on the nose. Spiteful git. Draco chewed on his lip and pretended to scowl. What Potter didn't know couldn't make him happier.

"_Now_ are you ready?" Potter asked impatiently.

Draco sighed. "Lead the way, arseface."

The pair walked out of the castle and towards Hogsmeade together—close enough to keep warm and each other's presence, but not close enough that they seemed like a _couple_. Of course, outside of Hogwarts, nobody knew that Draco and Potter were together... Obviously, there would be much more negative reaction out in the real world than there had been at school; Draco knew that most people wouldn't have even approved of a friendship between them. They were being brave simply by walking to town together.

"Nervous, Malfoy?" Potter asked, bumping into him with slight playfulness as he walked. His fingers brushed Draco's several times.

Draco shook his head. "No, not at all," he answered casually, trying to keep his cool even when his fingers made contact with Potter's for the third time. Damn it, Potter! Did he _want_ Draco to tackle him right then and there?

"Good." Potter smiled. "Do you want to go anywhere before the Three Broomsticks, by the way? I promised Ron and Hermione that we'd meet them there, but we can postpone it if you really want to. I know extended amounts of time with my friends give you headaches."

Draco snorted. "Seriously?" he asked. "Why don't they just go snog at Madam Puddifoots and get it over with? I mean, really, it's bordering on pathetic."

Potter laughed and jostled Draco's shoulder. "So you don't mind if we head on over there now, then?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he muttered. "I still think that Weasley and Granger are out of their minds."

Potter shook his head and led the way to the Three Broomsticks. Once they were inside, Draco became rather aware of the crowds and crowds of people around them. Well. It didn't seem like Draco was going to get any impromptu snogging for the time being—how disappointing. Some people were already staring at Draco and Potter as if they had each lost their minds by simply standing next to each other. Draco wanted to scowl at them. Honestly!

"Guys!" Weasley shouted, waving them over from a slightly secluded table in the back. "We're over here!"

Potter ran over and gave his two friends hello hugs while Draco stood and nodded at them. "Well, sit down, we've ordered a couple of Butterbeers already," Weasley said now, looking positively ecstatic as Granger threaded her arm through his when they were seated again. However, once Potter sat down too, Granger did the same with him. Draco wanted to roll his eyes. Gryffindors were so dense.

"Here are your four butterbeers," the waitress chirped, setting down their drinks cheerfully. Draco noticed that she was rather slim, blond, and busty for an ordinary pub employee. Perhaps she was temporary... "Anything else I can get for you? Food? Another round?" She seemed only interested in Potter's answer, though, as she was completely ignoring the rest of them.

Potter shook his head and smiled politely. "We've got everything we need," he said. "Thank you."

The waitress turned pink and giggled. "No thank _you_, Mr. Potter," she exclaimed. "For you, it's all on the house." Draco narrowed his eyes. Surely, Potter wouldn't let some dirty barmaid flirt with him like that. Would he?

Potter only grinned. "That's really nice of you."

The waitress giggled again and leaned in. "Are you sure that there isn't anything _else_ I can get for you, Harry?" she purred.

Before Potter could answer, Draco put a hand in front of the waitress's face and forced her to take a step back. "He's already said that he's got _everything_ he needs right here," Draco sneered, narrowing his eyes. "Yourself not included." At that, the waitress gave Draco a dirty look and left.

Potter burst out laughing. "What was _that_, Malfoy?"

Draco puffed up indignantly. "She was flirting with you!"

"You said that you weren't jealous anymore," Potter pointed out.

"Yeah," Draco said, gesturing at Granger. "Of _her_!"

Granger chuckled nervously. "Let's not get into that right now," she suggested. "No more fighting today."

"I'll drink to that!" Weasley exclaimed, lifting his Butterbeer and taking a generous gulp of it.

"Fine, we won't fight," Potter said, giving Draco a look across the table that said they would have to double the amount of bickering when they got back to the castle. Draco's defiance melted away and he couldn't help but give the other boy a tiny smile; Potter's hand was just barely touching Draco's on the tabletop. It was impossible to stay angry at him for long.

"Well, if it isn't Poncy Potter and his little girlfriend," a sneering voice announced loudly. "I bet that poor waitress had no idea Potter was actually a bonafide _cocksucker_."

Draco whipped around—Zacharias Smith was standing in front of their table with a couple of Fifth year brats and a smirk on his face. Draco narrowed his eyes and gave him a cool once-over. Really, it was almost ridiculous how Smith was trying to intimidate Draco and Potter; the two most influential figures at Hogwarts. Of course, the Hufflepuff had always been a bit of a tryhard in Draco's eyes—the only followers he could get were either daft or insane. Or both.

"Shove off, Smith," Weasley growled, already glaring daggers at the other blond boy. Draco silently praised him. It was common knowledge that Weasley disliked Smith anyway, but it was surprisingly pleasant to have the fiery redhead on his defence rather than the other way around. If Weasley was anything, he was absolutely frightening when angry.

Smith, however, was obviously quite used to Weasley's antagonism. "I simply came by to give my congratulations to the happy couple," Smith insisted. "Shame that Snape didn't have you bring your little pride and joy today... I think it would've been quite a laugh to watch you two lug that baby doll around everywhere."

Potter didn't look pleased, but he clearly wasn't going to take Smith's bait either. He sighed. "Can't you find someone else to torment today, Zacharias?" he asked dully. "We're a bit busy at the moment."

Smith smiled unkindly, and Draco wondered why on earth the boy had been sorted into Hufflepuff—he wasn't loyal, he wasn't pleasant... hell, he wasn't even timid enough to be one. Before now, the boy had been virtually nothing on Draco's radar. Smith blatantly ignored Potter's warning and turned to face Draco instead. "So, the imperturbable Draco Malfoy has finally found himself a boyfriend," he leered. "How sweet."

Draco inspected his nails. "Yeah, thanks," he drawled. He gestured at the shaky-looking bloke standing behind Smith. "How's yours, by the way?"

"I'm not a queer like you," Smith snapped, narrowing his eyes. "_I've_ got some dignity."

"Oh, sure, it's real dignified how you've got an army of mice to back you up," Draco remarked sarcastically.

Smith snorted. "At least I'm not a family disgrace," he spat. "How do you think Daddy would react to the news? He'd be positively livid that his precious son is in love with the Boy-Who-Lived, eh? He's a damned hypocrite, though—I'm certain Lucius himself was quite the good little girlfriend to You-Know-Who."

Draco shrugged. He didn't care what Smith said; the stupid dolt wasn't going to get to him. "I don't give a flying fuck what you think," he said. "Nor do I my father."

"What about your mum, then?" Smith challenged. "She'd be so ashamed—a _Malfoy_, shacking up with another man! I reckon that's why she left. Probably revolted by the fact that her only son is damaged and bent."

Before he could stop it, Draco felt his face heat up with anger. He almost growled. "Don't you talk about my mum, Smith," he hissed.

"What are you going to do, Malfoy?" Smith asked. "Kiss me?"

Potter's hand appeared over Draco's. The Gryffindor was glaring at Smith so intensely he could have burned a hole through him. "Fuck off before I make you," Potter murmured, his voice controlled but dangerous.

Smith didn't listen to him. He towered menacingly over Draco. "What, can't even fight your own battles, Malfoy?" he taunted. "Of course, now that you have your own personal Potter, you don't have to."

Draco was aware that his voice had become pitchy and unreliable, but he couldn't back down now. Not when Smith was prodding at his every insecurity. "You're a piece of shit," he snarled.

"And you're useless Death Eater scum," Smith countered nastily. "I can't even comprehend how anybody could love _you_."

Draco felt a pang in his heart; his jaw clenched so tightly he could almost taste the tears that were fighting to fall. No—that was the final component... Smith had played at Draco's worst insecurity of all: his loneliness. "I'm warning you," he hissed, his voice finally betraying him and cracking a bit.

Smith sensed the weakness and went at it head on. "Poor, sad, Malfoy," he jeered. "Your father didn't love you; he used you as a tool to raise himself in the ranks of Death Eaters. Your mother didn't love you; she disappeared and left you to fend for yourself. And _Potter_ doesn't love you, he only pities you—"

Potter rose from the table and shoved Smith to the floor. "I thought I told you to _fuck off_," he shouted.

The noise level in the pub dropped immediately. It was silent as Smith picked himself up off the floor and glared at Potter. "Stay out of this, Potter," he spat, his face splotched with slight mortification. "I'm just telling him the inevitable truth." Draco didn't move; his traitorous eyes were beginning to sting mercilessly. Fuck! Potter looked even more enraged.

"You fucking _bastard_, you make me _sick_," Potter screamed, pushing at Smith again until he stumbled backwards. "If I ever see you messing with him again, I will kill you—_no_, actually, if I even see you standing near him,_ breathing_ near him, I will fucking fuck you up so hard you'll _wish_ you were dead!" Smith was cowering now, his eyes wide, and all of his 'followers' had fled the moment Potter had started yelling. Potter was positively red in the face with fury as he continued. "And for your information, you s_hit_, Malfoy has friends who actually care about him, unlike you, who needs cronies so desperately that he picks them from the lowest, scummiest shithole in the school! Now get the _fuck_ out of my sight before I decide to murder your sorry arse right here in front of all of these nice people!" Smith scrambled for the door now, tripping and falling over his own robes and pushing people out of his way to get out—nobody wanted to face the wrath of the man who had slaughtered the Darkest Wizard of All Time, and not even Smith was that brainless. "And hey, tosspot,_ I do fucking love him_!" Potter shouted after Smith.

The room was eerily quiet again, save for a few frantic whispers in the crowd as Potter sat down. Draco was now aware of the tears spilling down his cheeks and he wiped them away angrily, furious with the situation—he hated that he had been humiliated in front of so many people, he hated that Smith had gotten to him so easily, and he hated that Weasley and Granger had seen him cry. But most of all, Draco hated that Potter had had to come to his rescue, yet _again._ Fuck it. Draco was so weak. Smith had been right.

Potter looked at Draco now. "Fuck, I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath. "I didn't mean to be so loud, he was just being such a prick to you—"

Draco turned away from him. "I was fine, Potter," he grumbled. "You didn't have to defend me."

Potter frowned. "He was out of line. I had to say something—"

"Leave it alone."

"No, he was wrong—"

"I said leave it alone, Potter."

"But I—"

"Damn it, Potter, I'm sick of this!" Draco exploded, pushing away from him. "Stop being so fucking heroic all of the time and _leave it_. I don't need anybody else feeling fucking sorry for me because some little fuckwad came in here and spouted off some stupid shit that nobody even cares about anyway!"

Potter tried to come closer again. "Malfoy, I just spilled my guts for you—"

"For me?" Draco's voice cracked as he shoved Potter again. "Or for _you_?"

"Were you even_ listening_ to what I said?" Potter asked, getting angry now as well.

Draco stood up. "I'm sorry," he snarled. "Not everything is about you, Potter!"

"Are you serious?"

"I don't need you, or anyone else to fight my battles for me," Draco yelled. "And I sure as hell don't need anyone to reassure me that I'm loved or cared about, because fucking damn it, I know what I am and I know what I've done and _nobody_ has the right to fucking tell me otherwise!" Everybody was gaping at him now, including Potter. Draco shook his head and wiped his eyes again—he had to get away—from Potter, from _everybody, _before he truly snapped right there and then.

"Malfoy, I didn't mean to tell you how to do anything," Potter murmured.

Draco gritted his teeth. "Don't act like you know me so well, Potter. You don't."

"I know you better than most people do."

"Yeah, not anymore," said Draco sarcastically. "The whole fucking pub knows now, thanks to you."

Potter pursed his lips. "There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel loved by the people you love most," he insisted.

Draco felt anger bubble up again; he couldn't control it—Potter was in the line of fire and Draco needed to lash out. "I guess you would know that best of all, wouldn't you, Potter?" Draco spat. "Your parents—your loved ones—they're all dead! How are they supposed to love you _now_?"

The words resonated throughout the room with a sickening echo and Potter recoiled in an instant, staring at Draco in shock... His green eyes flashed disbelievingly, and right then, it seemed that Potter's entire being had deflated somehow. And then all of the sudden, Draco was brought back to earth again; he remembered just how miserable Potter had been that night they had discussed his parents. How broken he had been... And now Draco was pouring salt all over the wound after he said that he would never do it again. _On purpose. _

"Malfoy..." Granger whispered, horrified. Draco looked at her across the table and she was gawking at him; Weasley was also staring with the same expression. The entire aura of everyone and everything in the pub felt the same way to Draco—staggered and disappointed.

Draco looked back at Potter slowly. "That... That came out wrong," he murmured. "You know I'd never—"

Potter didn't wait for Draco to finish. Instead, he got up without a word and stalked straight out of the pub.

"Potter, please!" Draco shouted now, dashing after him outside—the chilly air stung his face, but he hardly recognised it. However, he was vaguely aware of the people slowing down to watch the unlikely pair, and he cursed the day he had ever thought he and Potter could remain subtle wherever they went. It was impossible. Potter didn't linger and Draco had to jog to keep up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, just let me explain—"

Potter stopped abruptly and whirled around to face Draco. He didn't look shocked anymore, however, he did look rather angry and hurt. "How...dare... you?" he hissed, his voice low and scratchy. Draco stopped in his tracks and watched Potter's face contort as he spoke. "How fucking _dare_ you ask me to let you explain after you didn't even listen to a word I said while I was defending you, after you_ defiled_ my trust by dragging my parents through the mud for the thousandth fucking time!"

Draco tried not to sound defiant. "I wouldn't have done it if you hadn't yelled at Smith for me," he muttered. "I just got so mad—I didn't want your help!"

"No! You never do!" Potter shouted. "You want someone to push you around and then take care of you when you get hurt, but you don't want to ask for it. You want someone to pick up your pieces and then forget about it all the next day." He shook his head with disgust. "You want a lackey, Malfoy. Not a boyfriend. Not even a_ friend_."

Draco suddenly realised that there was more to it than what Potter was saying; he could hear it in his tone. He searched Potter's anguished face for a moment, trying to find the answer: but how could he? Potter was right, Draco didn't listen. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I... I didn't mean it."

"Of course you didn't." Potter snorted bitterly. "And you didn't mean it the first time you met me, or all of those years in school, or this year, or next year, or _ever._ You never do. I'm sick of it, to be honest."

Draco almost shrunk back at his ruthless tone. "Just tell me what I'm missing here—"

"I already _told_ you!" Potter cried, his voice breaking a little before he shook his head and sighed deeply. "But hey, since you insist... you're missing all of the promises you didn't keep, words you didn't hear, someone who isn't _you_. Because Merlin forbid you listen to someone else for a change." He turned and started back towards the castle again.

Draco felt tears threatening to fall again. "Harry, it's not—"

"We're _done_, Malfoy."

Draco stopped and watched him go, suddenly aware that he had just called Potter "Harry"... And that Harry had confessed to everybody in that pub that he was in love with Draco.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Hope you guys are still with me! Harry's POV.**

Chapter 19

Harry kept his head down as he stepped off the train. Winter holiday at the Burrow had been amazing and every member of the large, cheerful, boisterous Weasley family had kept him occupied. Mr. Weasley chatted with him about Muggle appliances, Mrs. Weasley fretted about his scanty diet, Ginny, Ron, and the twins played Quidditch with him and Charlie, Bill, and Percy discussed jobs and his future.

He didn't want the break to end. He wasn't ready for waking up early, going to classes, doing last minute homework… and he definitely wasn't ready to see a certain blonde Slytherin. Harry had tried to block out all of those thoughts from his mind during the last two weeks. And now that break was over, he was going to ignore Malfoy if it was the last thing he did. He'd done it for the past 7 years, why shouldn't he now? _But then again,_ Harry thought bitterly, _I never was good at ignoring Draco Malfoy._

Ron clapped a hand on his shoulder and surveyed their surroundings. "Good to be back, eh? Mum was clobbering you nearly the entire time we were there!"

Harry smiled a little. "I don't mind being clobbered."

Ron looked up at someone behind him and grinned. "You're in luck then, mate."

Harry felt arms wrap around him from behind. "Harry! Ron! I've missed you guys," Hermione let go of him and squeezed Ron's arm. Ron flushed happily, clearing his throat while Harry grinned at him.

Hermione turned and straightened Harry's collar, beaming. "I've had the best time with my parents. How was the Burrow?"

Ron smiled at her. "Brilliant, but it would've been better if you were there."

Hermione blushed prettily. "Come on, let's go."

The trio began to follow the crowd towards the castle, where dinner would be waiting for them. The whole way, Ron and Hermione created a protective barrier around Harry, bumping his shoulder or pinching his arm to let him know they were close. Harry wondered if they knew they were doing it, or if it was just an automatic reaction. Although, their "barrier" was a little more comforting and protective now than it had been for several months since Voldemort was defeated. Harry knew they were still worried about Malfoy and him.

After the incident in Hogsmeade, Harry had refused to talk about it with them. Hermione nagged about it for a couple of days and Ron had tried to talk to him once or twice at the Burrow, but since then they had both relented. Harry didn't even want to think about it himself, let alone talk about it with others. He figured it was a matter best left alone, if he was going to be successful at getting over Malfoy. And he WOULD get over Malfoy. Harry sighed. Eventually.

"Merlin, I'm starving right now. I hope they have chicken," Ron commented as they entered the Great Hall.

Harry laughed. "Of course you do, you always want chicken," he teased, receiving a playful shove in return. Hermione took his arm and they walked down to their seats. Harry's stomach grumbled and he looked down. "Actually, chicken doesn't sound so bad right now," he commented.

Hermione grinned and rolled her eyes. "Boys." They sat down, watching as the food materialized in front of their plates.

"Hi, Harry!" Blaise waved at him, taking a seat next to Hermione. "How was your holiday?"

Harry gulped down a rather massive bite of mashed potatoes before responding. "Great, Blaise. And yours?"

The other boy started to heap food onto his own plate. "Same. Went to Italy with my mother. There were so many hot girls there, let me tell you. Oh wait, you don't fancy girls! Shame," Blaise teased.

Harry smiled dryly. "Who knows, Blaise, maybe I fancy both."

Blaise laughed and pointed his fork at something behind Harry. "Valid point. Oi, Draco! Your boyfriend swings both ways! How do you like that?"

Harry's insides froze. Without thinking, he swiveled around to face the boy behind him. Malfoy's hand was hovering over Harry's shoulder. "Harry—" the blonde started, but Harry immediately spun back around. Blaise glanced between them with confusion.

"I'm not his boyfriend," Harry muttered. "Excuse me." The entire 8th year table was quiet as he got out of his seat and walked briskly away.

"Just listen—" Malfoy's voice echoed in the Great Hall, starting a wave of whispers throughout the students. Harry broke out into a run towards the doors. Outside, he swore loudly and threw his fist at the stone wall. Fuck. He stared at his bleeding knuckles, trying to numb his mind. He'd forgotten that he'd have to spend all of his time with Malfoy, seeing as the blonde bastard was his husband and father to his baby doll and all that. _Just my luck,_ he thought bitterly, kicking at the wall. _How am I supposed to ignore someone who _is_ always around?_

He heard scurrying footsteps behind him. "Harry!" He turned around slowly, but it was only Ron and Hermione. Harry felt a tiny twinge of disappointment in his chest. It's not like he _wanted _Malfoy to come running after him—he didn't—but…

"He didn't even try," he whispered softly, facing towards the wall again.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione wrapped her arms around him.

Ron put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You didn't let him, mate. He looked like he was going to cry when we left." Harry continued to stare at the wall.

Hermione rested her head on his other shoulder. "At least talk to him, Harry. I think you should."

"No. It's better this way."

She tilted her head. "But you're married and you have a baby with him!" Harry gave her a dry look. "Okay okay, but you have to spend a lot of time with him for this assignment. It's better if you can communicate," she amended.

Harry shook his head and started walking to the Slytherin dorms. "I'm going to bed early." His friends nodded slowly, watching him go.

"Just… just think about it, okay?" Hermione called after him.

Harry sat on his bed a few hours later with the curtains closed, toying with Rebecca's tiny fingers. Snape had kept her during the holidays and had apparently found her a challenge. When Harry went to retrieve her, the man snarled at him, shoving the doll into his arms as if she were some kind of toxic substance. He'd sneered, "Take the little monster Potter, I cannot stand it!" before slamming the door to his quarters in Harry's face. Harry tickled the doll absently. "Good Becca, I hope you made that sour bastard's life hell." He cooed sweetly, smiling when she giggled at his touch.

"Harry…?" A tentative voice called out from behind his curtains.

He sighed. "Yes, Blaise?"

The other boy pulled back his curtains and sat on his bed with him. "Want to explain to me what happened?" he asked, plucking Rebecca from Harry's grasp.

Harry picked at his sheets. "Not really. Didn't Malfoy tell you?"

Blaise shook his head. "No, he won't talk about it."

Harry sighed and pushed back his hair. "Well, he said something offensive and I don't want to take it anymore. We're done, I guess."

"But isn't he always offensive?" Blaise asked, gazing into his eyes searchingly.

Harry looked away. "Yeah, but… This one really hit the nail over the head."

Blaise cocked his head at the expression. "What?"

Harry sighed. "I mean… ugh, it's complicated."

Blaise shot him that look of concern Hermione always gave him. "Well whatever it is, you guys need to talk about it. Draco's just been moping down in the common room all night, writing in a journal and shit. You've turned him into a lovesick puppy. I wouldn't be surprised if he started listening to sad Muggle songs."

Harry snorted at the idea. "Yeah, right. But I'm not going to talk to him about it. Malfoy and I, we're… not good for each other. We've got to let each other move on."

Blaise patted his shoulder and got up from his place on the bed. "Just… Don't lock up your emotions, Harry. I know you are. Really think about how you feel. You'll see that you're wrong," he said softly, before turning and leaving the room.

Harry sighed and turned his attention back to Rebecca. "I wish I could," he whispered to the doll, letting her fall asleep in his arms. He placed her carefully down on the bed and leaned back on his pillow. Maybe Blaise was right. It wasn't healthy keeping all these feelings bottled up. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts course through him freely. He imagined Malfoy's blonde hair, how his cheeks turned light pink when he was embarrassed, the way his eyes lit up when he smiled. He thought of the snarky comments, the raised eyebrow when Harry had trouble with Potions, the smirk when he was right and Harry was not. He could see Malfoy's pout when Harry kissed his nose, could almost hear him laugh and say, "Honestly Potter, you're such a Gryffindor."

Harry reluctantly let his mind open wider, back to that night in Hogsmeade. He pictured the anguish on Malfoy's face when Smith had taunted him, the tears falling down his face. How it had made Harry's heart hurt, seeing Malfoy like that. He recalled shouting his love for the Slytherin for everybody to hear. He pictured the flashing gray of Malfoy's eyes when he'd told Harry off. He felt the rejection, pain and anger rush through him again and heard the absolute silence of the bar. He saw that look of realization, the broken expression when Harry turned to leave. He remembered Malfoy's shaky voice calling him by his first name. Harry sucked in a breath sharply, trying to control his emotions. He clenched his jaw and willed the wetness in his eyes to subside. This was a bad idea; he wasn't going to get over Malfoy this way. He crawled under the covers and shut his eyes tightly, desperately trying to block out the memories again, but he felt hot tears streaming down his face as he drifted off to sleep.

Harry went through the next week quite awkwardly. He had awkwardly woken up next to his ex, awkwardly gone to class with his ex, awkwardly ate meals with his ex, awkwardly took care of Rebecca with his ex… and currently, he was awkwardly sitting in the common room next to his ex, along with Blaise, Nott, and Pansy. It was all quite unfair, really. Malfoy sat with his back facing Harry, writing in the journal that Blaise said he had. _I wonder if he's writing to his mother._ Harry felt a pang in his chest. No, Malfoy probably didn't even bother with it. He'd said it was too silly and sentimental, and he only did it before to appease Harry while they were together. But now that they weren't…

Blaise waved a hand in front of his face. "Oi, Earth to Harry! Who do you think will win, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff?"

Harry blinked at him. "Win what?"

"Quidditch, of course!" Blaise scoffed at him. Harry shrugged. He wasn't that involved in Hogwarts Quidditch this year because he didn't try out for the team. It had been his dream come true when he had started playing in first year. He wanted to give younger students the chance to have their dreams come true too.

Nott snorted. "Not everything revolves around Quidditch." Harry raised an eyebrow at him and Blaise gasped. "Take that back!" Nott laughed and refused, earning a playful push from the other boy.

Harry grinned at both of them and then noticed that Pansy had scooted closer to Malfoy. They talked quietly for a couple of minutes, before Pansy got up and announced, "Come on guys, it's late. Let's go." The boys parted with Pansy to their dorm, getting ready for bed with slightly tense exchanges. Since Harry and Malfoy weren't speaking, the conversations were usually divided. Harry slipped into bed, adjusting Rebecca by his pillow before lying down and closing his eyes. He didn't look as Malfoy got in beside him.

It was 2 AM and Harry was still awake, clenching and unclenching the hand closest to Malfoy's. There was an unexpected rustle at the curtains beside him. He sat up hesitantly, pulling them back.

"Hello?" He whispered into the darkness. "Blaise?"

All of the sudden, there was a light shining in his eyes. Pansy had her wand pointed at him with the tip illuminated. "Potter, come out here," she whispered.

He squinted his eyes at her. "Now?"

She glanced at Malfoy, who appeared to still be sleeping. "Yes I need to, um, talk to you. In my room." Harry knitted his eyebrows together but didn't respond, getting out of the warm bed and wincing at the cool air. He shivered. Pansy rolled her eyes and draped her cloak over him. "Let's go."

Once they arrived in her dorm, she motioned to the bed. "Get on."

He made a face. "What, why?"

She sighed in exasperation. "I'm not coming on to you, Potter, just come here." He gave her a skeptic look before climbing on. She joined him, closing the curtains and whispering a Silencing charm so they wouldn't wake her dorm mates.

"Okay, what is it?" Harry asked, eager to get back to his bed. It was even colder in the girls' dorms. She pulled out a little notebook and handed it to him. He looked at it with bewilderment. Malfoy's journal?

Sensing his confusion, Pansy nodded. "Yes, it's Draco's. There are some things in there that you need to read."

Harry pushed it away. "I… I don't want to. It's his private stuff. He doesn't want me to read it."

Pansy snorted. "Yeah, and he didn't want me to steal it from his trunk either but that didn't stop me, did it? Look," she said, noticing Harry's doubtful expression, "Draco doesn't know how to express his feelings, Potter. Not out loud. You need to know what is going on in that twisted head of his and if you won't talk to him, this is what you have to do. Just… Just read it. Please."

Harry looked up into her pleading eyes, trying to find a trace of deception in them. There was only concern and care reflecting back. He sighed. "Okay," he said slowly, reaching for the book.

Pansy smiled and wrapped him into a hug. Surprised, Harry hugged her back. "I just hate seeing him hurt," she whispered, "And you're the only one who can make it stop."

Harry left Pansy's dorm and headed down to the empty common room, shivering as he took a chair by the fireplace. He had Pansy's cloak, but it was still so bloody cold in the dungeons on winter nights. He glanced down at the book in his lap. These are Malfoy's private thoughts. Thoughts he probably didn't want Harry to read, ever. Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly, reluctant to open the journal. What if it said something he didn't want to know? What if Malfoy didn't care about him at all anymore? Harry shuddered. He didn't want to do it. This was wrong. He was about to get up and put Malfoy's journal back, but a nagging thought overcame his brain. _Read it, or you'll never know._

It was right. He needed to know or he'd never be satisfied. Harry sighed, giving in. He flipped the cover open to page one.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: Ah! Sorry I left it there, I know, I'm horrible! Hopefully this chapter will make up for that! Harry's POV.**

Chapter 20

Harry took a deep breath before glancing down at the dreaded page. The worn parchment of the first entry wasn't attached to the journal; it was instead loosely tucked into the inside of the front cover. He toyed with the edges of the frayed sheet nervously. Malfoy must have looked at this many times for it to become this shabby. Harry bit his lip and closed his eyes before opening them slowly to make out the first words in the entry. He gasped.

"He wrote to me?" he whispered incredulously, staring at Malfoy's impeccable script. The letter was dated the day that they went to Hogsmeade. He scanned it with unhurried interest. It was sarcastic and witty, yet sweet and carefree. It was so Malfoy. Harry read and reread every word in disbelief. He ran his fingers over the signature.

_Love,_

_DM_

Love? Harry stared at the word for a few minutes. _What does that mean? Did Malfoy really love me? _He shook his head. It was a common way to end a letter, why was he freaking out over it? With growing interest, he flipped over to the next page. It was another letter with the same date.

_Harry,_

_I'm so stupid! Why did I have to open my big mouth and say those awful things that I did? You were right, I knew how much those words would hurt you; I used them strategically because I knew that. Because I'm a fucking sick bastard. It's a terrible reflex of mine to push people out, push them away when I feel vulnerable. I shouldn't have pushed you, Harry. The second I said it I wished I could take it back. I wish I could take back all the dreadful things I ever said and did, but this one was the worst—_

Some of the ink was smeared, blurring out a couple of lines. Harry realized that they were teardrop blots.

_I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. _

_Love, _

_DM_

Harry turned the thin, damaged pages gingerly, slowly reading through the rest of the entries.

_**December 20th**_

_Harry,_

_I guess it really is over. You and I, I mean. _

_You went to the Weasley's for the holidays yesterday. I tried to talk to you before you got on the train, but you wouldn't listen. I understand that, and I don't blame you. I don't deserve you, your attention or your love. I knew that from the start. But it still hurts like hell to have to sit here and know that I've blown it. That I had it everything and I just let it all slip away. When you smiled at me, it used to shatter my heart. Now it shatters because you don't. _

_Love, _

_DM_

_**December 23rd **_

_Harry,_

_I'm spending the next two weeks at Hogwarts for Christmas. There's not much company here, Pansy's gone home and Blaise went to Italy with his mum. Even though I know you would just go on ignoring me, I wish you were here. Just so I could see you. _

_I tried to send you an owl but I never got a reply. I doubt you even looked at it. I know that I should just stop trying, but I can't bring myself to. I'm lonely now, but I guess it'll be even lonelier when you come back._

_Love, _

_DM_

_**December 25th**_

_Merry Christmas, Harry._

_Love, _

_DM_

_**December 30th **_

_Harry,_

_I write to my mother every day now. It's starting to become quite an unhealthy obsession, writing to people who will never obtain my letters. It's depressing, but it actually does give me comfort. You were right. I can imagine my mother receiving the letter and reading it with her afternoon tea. I imagine her laughing with me, sympathizing with me, connecting with me. _

_Writing to her makes me feel as though she is here with me. I guess that's why I'm still writing to you, too. Lets me pretend that you'll get them and come back to me when you do. Like everything will be okay and you'll appear by my side, laughing at how ridiculous and dramatic I am and kissing my nose for it. I'd give anything for you to do that again. _

_Love, _

_DM_

_**January 1st**_

_Harry,_

_Articles keep coming in about what happened in Hogsmeade. I saw one that displayed you leaning on Weasley's arm with tears running down your face. It broke my heart. How dare they broadcast your pain to the entire world like it's some kind of mindless gossip? Like it's not somebody's LIFE that they're feeding off of? Can't they see that you're hurting enough without them harassing you? They don't even care about your feelings, even though you're the fucking Savior of the whole damn wizard world. You saved them from the darkest fucking wizard of all time and this is how they repay you. They're ungrateful little leeches and it makes my blood boil. _

_This stupid arse Ravenclaw fifth year tried to be funny yesterday at dinner. He filled my bag with the offending articles and when I confronted him about it, he just smirked at me—SMIRKED at me, a Malfoy for fucks sake!—and said that he didn't realize that you were thick enough to care about lowly scum like me. _

_I can't believe that pipsqueak had the nerve to say that about you! I almost started full on cursing every single Unforgivable at him. Unfortunately, I was stopped from doing that when Snape interfered. But I did manage to slip in a nasty bat-bogey hex before he did. Wasn't as good as Ginny Weasley's, but it was good enough to get me a week of detention. Worth it, I think. NOBODY insults you in front of me, especially not an idiot Ravenclaw. (That was ironic, was it not?)_

_Anyway, I would perform any of the Unforgivables to defend you… Oops, you probably would not approve of that. But just know that I still would._

_Love, _

_DM_

_**January 2nd**_

_Harry,_

_I called you Harry when you were leaving Hogsmeade but I don't think that you heard me. If you could read these letters, I bet you would wonder why I continue to call you that. I mean, before all of this happened, I was perfectly content with calling you Potter. It was so comfortable, so familiar. I liked it. _

_But you know what I've realized since then? Being comfortable was a mistake. Because being comfortable is being safe and I've learned that love is not. It's the scariest fucking thing I've ever known and I was afraid of it. But I'm not anymore. __By calling each other by our surnames it kept us in the same sphere of our past, in that sphere where we once hated each other, where we once spoke those names with malice and not affection. Where we used them as a tool to hurt each other._

_I couldn't do it any longer, Harry; I couldn't hurt you anymore than I already have. I can't refer to you as Potter because it reminds me of when I was nothing more to you than a nuisance. It's sort of ironic, because that is what I am again to you now. I should have called you Harry the moment I had you. Maybe it would have been different._

_Love, _

_DM_

_**January 4th**_

_Harry,_

_Winter holidays are over and you're back. I was late to dinner, trying to gather up the courage to go down and try to speak to you again. But when I did, you ran away as if I were the plague. That's when I knew, Harry, when I saw the look on your face. That's when I knew that I couldn't keep running after you any longer. You clearly didn't want me to. I understand. I'll stop trying to talk to you. _

_Love, _

_DM_

_**January 5th**_

_Harry, _

_Blaise saw you run at dinner and questioned me about it. I couldn't tell him. He's my best friend, but I couldn't. I know he'd just tell me that I was stupid for saying what I did. Tell me that I could've tried harder. That I need to find you and make you listen to me and understand. But I won't, Harry. I stand by what I said before. I'll stop, because it's more fitting that you just forget about me. You deserve better._

_Pansy confronted me about it too. I refused to tell her about it, but she's very persistent in trying to help me. I did tell her about how I am writing to you, though. She thinks that I should send them to you. I told her that I couldn't. You probably wouldn't read them anyway and it would rip away any dignity I had left. I still have my Malfoy pride, if nothing else. And I used to be perfectly happy with that, but now I scorn it. I wish that I didn't care so much, but it's in my Slytherin nature to take care of my pride. I wish I were more like you._

_I take back everything negative I have ever said about you Gryffindors. At least you're bold enough to let yourselves act with your hearts. I'm only brave enough to write with mine._

_Love, _

_DM_

_**January 7th**_

_Harry,_

_These past few days have been a living hell. I don't know how you do it, but you've managed to completely disregard me while spending every minute with me, at the same time. If you weren't so good at ignoring me, I would give you props on your ability to ignore me so thoroughly. But I guess that would kind of annihilate the point, wouldn't it?_

_I hope you aren't getting as much shit as I am for what happened. I doubt that you are since you are universally well liked, but you never know. Now that holidays are over, it's not just that snotty fifth year Ravenclaw who dares to taunt me. It's everybody. People who only just tolerated me before this incident now spit on me like they used to right after the war ended, given that they have a reason to again. _

_It actually doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would. Sure, it's tedious to put up with, but it seems like such a light punishment for the whole lot. I guess what I mean to say is, I deserve it. I do not pity myself, really, I don't. I truly believe that all the wrongs that I've committed in my life, the horrible things that I did before I switched sides, the way I treated people as my inferiors and more recently, what I've done to you, that yes, I do deserve all of it. _

_And it's not so bad, being hated by everybody. Well, it wouldn't be so bad if it were everybody BUT you._

_But that's the thing. It is EVERYBODY that hates me. Including you. I remember you told me once that you could never hate me. I didn't believe it then, and I don't believe it now. You probably don't even recall saying it. But if you did, I bet you'd regret it._

_Love,_

_DM_

Did he really have that much lack of respect for himself? Were people really acting that way to him? Harry felt tears running down his face. He could just barely make out the words on the last entry through them.

_**January 9th**_

_Harry, _

_Remember when you said that you loved me? I know that you don't anymore, but I loved you too. I still love you and I probably always will. I just wanted you to know that._

_Love,_

_DM_

Harry dropped the book onto the floor with a thud, sliding down to muffle his sobs with the couch cushion. Malfoy—Draco—he really, truly cared for Harry. And he was hurting badly. There was no trace of anger, no trace of scorn or conceit in any of the letters. Harry felt as if he had just read the contents Draco's heart. He blubbered into the pillow for a long while. He cried for Draco, for his mistakes and his losses, for his grief and his loneliness. He cried for himself, for being so blind, so stupid, so unforgiving. For not listening to anyone. He cried for their shattered relationship, so full of misunderstandings and heartbreak.

After some time, Harry sat up in the chair and wiped his tears away. He stared at the dwindling fire, vision still blurred from leftover tears. Should he go confront Draco? If he did so, would he demand forgiveness, or beg for it? Would he try to get back together with him, or just forget all about it and move on? Should he talk to his friends about what to do, or should he just go do it? And what was it that he was supposed to do anyways? Harry's thoughts were in a jumble, in a crying-induced haze. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Picking the book up off the floor, he stood from his chair and headed back to the boys' dorm. He placed the journal on Draco's trunk and turned to face the bed.

Draco was sleeping peacefully, his face more relaxed and untroubled than Harry had seen in weeks. He leaned over and lightly touched the boy's cheek, letting his eyes drift over him, letting himself feel every stab of emotion as he did it. Harry sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, never taking his eyes off of Draco's sleeping form as he slipped into bed beside him, careful not to squish Rebecca. He glanced at Draco one more time before drifting off to sleep again.

When it was almost dawn, Harry woke to soft noises coming from beside him. He didn't open his eyes and lay very still. "Harry," it was Draco's voice. "Harry," he whispered again almost inaudibly, before taking his hand and squeezing it quickly, gently. Then Draco's hand slipped away and Harry heard the rustling of sheets as he turned from him. His hand felt empty, but his heart felt emptier. _He's obviously hurting_, he thought, listening to Draco's breathing slow as he fell asleep. _But he also said that it would be best if I moved on. And it would be better if I did. Wouldn't it?_ Harry bit his lip and turned to look at Draco. _What do I do? Tell me what I should do._

As he thought it, Draco's hand shot out and grabbed his again. Harry stared at their joined hands in shock. "Draco?" he whispered, "are you awake?" The only answer was the sound of Draco's rhythmic breathing. Harry gazed down at their hands again.

"Love you," Draco sleep-mumbled, snuggling closer to him, "Harry..."

Harry's heart broke and he felt tears reforming in his eyes. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this to Draco or to himself, not anymore. Harry gazed down at the sleeping blonde before he leaned back and closed his eyes again, letting the tears stream down his face without a sound. He knew what had to be done.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: My goodness, thank you for your wonderful reviews! I read every one of them and they are wonderful and so helpful! So there will be only a couple more chapters left before I am finally finished with this fic and then I can move on to a new project. This is Harry's POV!**

Chapter 21

Harry woke up to an empty bed the next morning. He rubbed his eyes, confused and sleepy. Where were Draco and Becca? He was usually up before the other boy and it was his job to take care of Rebecca in the mornings. Granted, he did spend a good portion of the night crying his eyes out, but still. He had hoped to talk to Draco before he disappeared for the day. He peered out of the curtains to find the dorm empty. _That's just bloody fantastic. _He got dressed rapidly, snagging his bag off of the floor. He noticed Draco's journal and picked it up, too.

He ran through the common room and jumped through the portrait hole into the corridor only to connect heads with another student. "Ouch!" he rubbed his forehead.

"Watch where you're—oh, Harry! You're up!" Blaise looked up at him, massaging his head as well. "You've missed the first few classes, I was just heading back in to wake you up and give you Becca," he held out the doll for Harry to take.

Harry blinked at him and took her from his waiting arms. "What? Why didn't you get me up before?"

"We tried, but you were out cold! So we gave your professors the proper excuses and said that you were sick." Blaise glanced at the journal in Harry's hand and raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that…?"

"Yeah," Harry answered hurriedly, "Speaking of Draco, where's he?"

Blaise's other eyebrow rose as Harry spoke Draco's given name and shrugged. "Probably in class by now. Shouldn't you be heading to Charms?"

Harry waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, that can wait. I've got to speak with him." He started jogging off to Draco's Potions classroom.

Blaise squealed and followed him. "Ooh, this should be good!"

Harry sprinted through the corridor and burst into the classroom, interrupting one of Slughorn's lectures with a loud bang. The whole class stopped and looked at him. Harry noticed that Draco turned his eyes down to the table and pretended to be enthralled with a mote of dust. "Harry?" Slughorn peered at him from the front of the room, frowning. "What are you doing here?" Harry, still out of breath from running, stared blankly at him.

Blaise tapped his shoulder. "You didn't think this one through, did you?" he whispered.

Harry shook his head, still panting. "My plan went as far as getting here. After that, I don't know exactly."

Blaise snorted, pushing him into the room gently. "Typical."

Harry took a breath and cleared his throat. "Excuse me sir, but I need to take him out of class for a moment," he said, nodding towards Draco. The other boy's gaze remained stubbornly glued to the table as the entire class watched avidly.

Slughorn frowned some more. "I'm sorry, but what do you need Mr. Malfoy for?"

Harry tried to look intimidating, but he knew it was a ridiculously futile attempt. Here he was, disrupting a lesson with rumpled school robes, messy hair, a snickering Blaise, and a baby doll in his arms. He wasn't scaring anybody. He looked at the floor. "Never mind, sir. I'll just go." He started towards the door; anxious to get out of the awkward situation he had created for himself.

"Is that mine?" a voice called out tentatively. Harry spun around and found that Draco was staring at the journal still in his grasp.

Harry forgot all about awkward situations and leaving. "Yes."

Draco looked shocked for a moment, then irritated. "Why do you—?"

Harry cut him off. "Do you still care about me?"

For a split second, Draco looked uncertain but his Malfoy mask of disdain was back in place as quickly as it left. "What we had is over, Potter. I feel nothing." He sneered, his eyes not quite meeting Harry's.

Harry shook his head. "Tell the truth. I've read the book, you know, but I want to hear you say it."

Draco's pale skin turned a few shades paler. He snarled at Harry, his eyes flashing angrily. "You had no right—"

"Stop it! I have every right and you know it! You wouldn't tell me, so what else was I supposed to do? Just admit it, you still care about me just as much as I still care about you!" Harry shouted.

Draco's mask slipped from his face in an instant. His expression was one of naked insecurity. "You… still care about me?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically small.

Harry closed his eyes and laughed humorlessly. "You never listen to me, do you? Of course I do, you silly git. One stupid remark isn't going to make me stop."

Draco turned his eyes down to the floor. "But it made you leave me," he whispered, tracing patterns on the cement with his foot. Harry walked over until he was right in front of him.

"And I was wrong. It was my fault, I was stubborn and angry. If I only knew how much I was hurting you I would've never—"

Draco broke in. "No, it was my fault. I should've never said any of that, it was cruel and vicious and you have every right to hate me for it. I knew what I was doing so it wasn't an accident. I don't understand why you're not walking away," he said quietly to his feet.

Harry took Draco's hand gently. "There's this crazy thing, I'm sure you've heard of it. It makes me do bizarre stuff like copying your Potions notes when you're not looking and kissing your nose and grabbing your hand in the middle of the night. Like defending you in a crowded pub and failing, like ignoring you and failing, like trying to move on and failing. Like stealing your journal and interrupting your class obnoxiously and learning to forgive for every one of your mistakes." Harry tipped Draco's face up to look into his eyes.

"It's called love, Draco."

Draco's bottom lip trembled when he heard his given name and he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Harry and burying his face into his neck. Harry closed his eyes and leaned into the embrace, nuzzling his nose in the soft blonde hair. Relief and joy hit him like a brick wall.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" Draco paused and looked up into his eyes earnestly, "I love you, Harry," he whispered.

"Shh, I know, I know, it's okay. I love you too, Draco."

Draco sighed contentedly and they held each other for a few moments without saying anything. He sniffled. "Harry?"

"Hm?"

"I'm going to kill you for making me get emotional in front of an audience."

Harry laughed and looked around at the surrounding students, who were all watching their display unashamedly. "As long as you do it with love."

They tread cautiously around each other for a couple of days after that but as the weeks went by, Draco gradually became more teasing and Harry more playful. Harry knew that with each passing day he was slowly falling more and more in love with the Slytherin. Everybody could see it. Hermione smiled happily at him, Ron patted his shoulder supportively and Blaise, Dean, and Seamus shot him sly looks. Even Snape had noticed, judging by the several extra assignments and the scathing looks. Aside from Snape, people were treating Draco with more respect because of it.

On a late spring afternoon, Harry was lying on his bed in Gryffindor Tower watching with amusement as Draco struggled with Rebecca's diaper yet again. "I still can't believe that after all these months you're still having trouble with that," he said with a grin, receiving a pillow to the face for his commentary.

"Yeah well, we can't all be Father of the Year like you, can we?" Draco replied sarcastically, brows furrowing at the little clasp on the diaper. "What the hell does this do?"

Harry smiled. He was so cute when he was frustrated. "Need some help?" he asked.

Draco turned his nose up in the air a little. "Malfoys do not ever require assistance, Harry! I am perfectly capable—ah! See?" He held up the tiny doll with pride. Harry took one look and hooted with laughter. Draco frowned. "What? What's wrong with it?"

Harry got up and wrapped his arms around the blonde. "It's on backwards, love." He chuckled, taking Rebecca from Draco's grasp and setting her down on the little changing table.

Draco pouted sweetly. "Damn it, I thought I had it this time!" Harry laughed again and kissed his nose before capturing his lips enthusiastically. Draco responded just as eagerly and the kiss became more passionate. Harry had his hand halfway up Draco's shirt before the blonde pulled away, gasping. "Do you want to—?"

Harry widened his eyes, but nodded slowly. Draco had waited patiently for him, always letting Harry decide when to take it a step further. "Yes, I—I think so," he stammered nervously. "Just… give me a minute, will you?" Draco nodded, letting go and Harry rushed over to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face several times and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

This was it. He had promised himself that he wouldn't have sex unless it was with someone he could see himself loving for a long, long time. And somehow, he knew that he would not regret it with Draco. He knew that he was about to lose his virginity to the man he planned to keep in his life for the long run. Harry smiled at his reflection one last time and walked out of the bathroom with confidence. Draco was already on the bed, wearing nothing but a seductive expression and Harry's Gryffindor tie.

"I heard Gryffindors are pretty wild. Should I tame you Lion boy, or would you like to tame me?" Harry's smile widened as he made to join him.

The next day they both arrived at breakfast rumpled and exhausted, but in extremely high spirits. Harry could not keep himself from grinning as he thought of the previous night. It had been one of the most exciting, stimulating experiences of his entire lifetime and he knew that he had made the right choice. With Draco, he'd never be bored again.

He passed Becca over to Blaise as he sat down, still smiling. Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Someone's looking extremely chipper today," he observed, glancing over at Draco's matching expression and grinning lecherously. "I wonder why."

Seamus snorted as he sat down at his seat with Dean. "I don't have to wonder anything. I could hear them going at it all night. Honestly guys, think about using a Silencing charm next time," he complained, winking good-naturedly at them to show that he was teasing.

Harry flushed lightly, too ecstatic to be truly embarrassed. "Right, Seamus," he replied, rolling his eyes at Blaise, who was still smiling. The boy grinned wider and gave Draco and him both a thumbs up. He was just on his second helping of eggs when he heard the doors to the Great Hall shut with an echoed thud and the room grew eerily quiet. He looked at Draco, who appeared to be just as confused as he felt. They both glanced at Hermione across from them, who was staring at the doors with a shocked expression. Another look of perplexity was shared between them before they turned around slowly. Draco gasped loudly. Standing at the doors, looking incredibly anxious and weary, was Narcissa Malfoy.

**(Another!) Author's Note: This was a shorter one, but hopefully enough for now! Sorry about the quick almost sex scene, this IS rated T so no real smut will be involved. I'm horrible at writing it anyway. Thanks for reading, I'll try to update as soon as I possibly can.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: Sorry it's been like an eternity (not really but it feels like it to me)! Anyway, I'm estimating that there will only be three more chapters until I'm done. Maybe four if I decide to include like an epilogue or something. I don't know yet. What do you think? We're switching back to Draco's POV!**

Chapter 22

Draco stared at his mother in shock. _What was going on? How did she get here, where did she come from? Why hasn't she contacted me before?_

Dumbledore had finally noticed Narcissa Malfoy's presence at the doorway, but he did not have his usual all-knowing twinkle in his benign eyes. He actually looked a bit bewildered. Snape got up from his seat and rushed over to Draco's mother. They spoke in hushed tones for a few moments before Snape turned and nodded at Dumbledore once and whisked her out of the room. After Snape and his mother had gone, Dumbledore continued to eat as if nothing had happened. It was the students cue to do the same. But the Hall was still uncomfortably quiet and whispers and murmurs fluttered throughout the room, and Draco felt Harry grab his hand supportively.

Draco stared at their joined hands on his lap, not wanting to look up and see his classmates' faces. He knew that they were all sneaking peeks—if not blatantly staring—at him and he did not know how to deal with them. Hell, he hardly knew how to deal with himself right now. He felt a small squeeze on his shoulder and he looked up to see Snape looming over him. "Draco," he said quietly, motioning towards the door. "Dumbledore's office." Draco nodded slowly at him, too numb to speak. Harry gripped his hand tighter.

"Are you going to be okay?" his green eyes shone with concern.

Draco gave him a tiny smile. "Don't worry about me, Harry. I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself. Besides, you need to look after Becca," he teased softly; trying to fool Harry into thinking that he was fine. He took the doll back from an unusually hushed Blaise and gently laid her down next to Harry.

Harry didn't look convinced and his eyes showed no relief. But he let Draco's hand go reluctantly and picked up Rebecca. "Well… Okay." He bit his lip hopefully. "Can I come?"

"No, Potter. This is a matter between Dumbledore, myself, Draco and his mother," Snape piped in, shooting a disapproving glare towards Harry. The other boy turned to Draco looking like a crushed puppy.

Draco squeezed his shoulder lightly. "I'll be fine, Harry. Just stay here." Harry nodded, rocking Becca tenderly in his arms. Draco looked up at Snape. "Let's go," he said, attempting to keep his voice from trembling. He shot another glance back at Harry as he walked towards the doors, trying to shut out all of the other students staring and pointing at him. He held his head up high and acted as if he wasn't going to see his up-until-now-missing mother whom he hadn't seen in more than a year. He acted as if his thoughts weren't fumbling around at an uncontrollably high speed inside his mind. He acted as if it wasn't a big deal at all.

His insides were churning unpleasantly as they approached Dumbledore's office. It wasn't as if Draco did not want to see his mother—he did—but at the same time, he was tremendously anxious, expecting the worst. What if she was changed? What if something was terribly wrong? What if she hadn't meant to come back for him? Maybe ignorance was bliss. Maybe he could just turn around and pretend as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred and head to class. He shook his head._ It's too late for that now._

He took a deep breath and trailed hesitantly behind Snape into the office. Narcissa was already sitting in a cushioned chair, but she jumped up when she saw Draco enter the room. "Draco!" she cried, running towards him and throwing her arms around him. Draco immediately melted into her motherly embrace, his reluctance and fears melting away as well. Relief, love and euphoria rushed through him as he pressed his face against her hair. She smelled of expensive French shampoo, subtly spicy but sugary, and wildflowers. That scent had been familiar to him for so many years. It was his mother's.

When she pulled back, her eyes were shining with tears. Draco observed her silky blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and tall, lean figure. She was just as beautiful as he remembered her. Narcissa ran her hands over his hair and face as if she were memorizing his every feature. Draco felt her loving fingers sweep away tears from his cheeks and realized that he was crying, too. He looked up and saw that Dumbledore was sitting calmly at his desk, waiting patiently through their weepy reunion to discuss the matters at hand. Even Snape was respecting their moment and was standing in the corner of the room. His expression was even a little empathetic. Well, as empathetic as Snape could ever look.

Draco rubbed his eyes and gently stepped out of the embrace, turning to face Dumbledore. As much as he wanted to just stand there and hold his mother for hours and hours, he needed to know what was happening. Draco looked at Dumbledore in anticipation, expecting him to go off on a rant about how it had happened and for what, and why he couldn't have just told Draco in the first place. Harry had mentioned on several occasions that Dumbledore had a tendency to play mind games like that. But Dumbledore only gazed kindly at Narcissa. "I'm just as baffled as anyone else, Mrs. Malfoy. Please, do explain." Draco raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything. He turned to look at his mother, who sighed tiredly and wilted into her chair.

"During the worst of the war, he… V-Voldemort was living at the Manor. From such close vicinities, I realized that his actions, intentions, and campaigns… they were much more vicious than I had previously believed. They were cruel and inhumane. I understood that I could not stand by such a madman. I switched sides covertly and managed to get Draco to do so as well—you know," she said, motioning at Snape and Dumbledore. They both nodded.

"But during one of the battles, I suppose it was the last, from what I've recently heard… I deliberately saved Harry Potter's life—" Narcissa paused, glancing at Draco briefly before continuing, "and he got away from Voldemort safely. After he was gone I ran around the school grounds trying to locate Draco. But—but before I did, a group of Death Eaters approached me and said that they knew I had let Harry Potter go. They said I would pay when the Dark Lord figured out what I had done. I panicked and continued to search for Draco with more insistence. I wanted to take him with me to a safe place, because I figured that if I were suspected of being a traitor then Draco's true alliance wouldn't be extremely difficult to guess. But I suppose I didn't realize that he was such a capable spy," she said, smiling admiringly at Draco and resting her hand on his shoulder.

Draco felt the glow of pride in his chest with his mother's touch as Narcissa continued with the story. "But after twenty minutes and still no sign of Draco, I realized that if I stayed much longer the Dark Lord would come for me. So I… I went someplace where no one could find me. Well, no one but my son." Snape, Dumbledore and Draco all stared at her in confusion.

"But… I couldn't find you. I looked everywhere, and you were nowhere to be found! I thought that you had—or that they—" Draco's eyes started to water again. "I couldn't find you!" he repeated dumbly.

She gazed at him with sorrow. "I had hoped that you would follow me as soon as you figured out that I was gone. I thought that you would remember. It took you a while, but I suppose you did eventually."

Draco grabbed her arms and shook her, exasperated by her murky answers. They weren't making any sense! "I didn't know where you were!"

She frowned slightly at him and freed her arm from his grasp, reaching into the pockets of her robes. "Then how did you send me these?"

Draco stared at the crumpled parchments in her hands. Astonished, he reached for them and thumbed through the pages. "My letters," he whispered, running his fingers over his own careful script. He glanced up sharply. "How could I have sent these to you if I didn't know where you were?"

Narcissa looked at him curiously and shrugged. "Your owl brought them to me. When I received the first one that said that the Dark Lord was gone and the war was over, I began to pack up my things. As I was preparing, your letters began to arrive every day. I thought—" she stopped suddenly, glancing sheepishly at him. Draco had never seen that expression on his mother's dainty face before. "I thought… I thought that if you knew where I was, you would come and find me. That we could just stay there together and start anew. So I didn't read any of the letters after the first. I unpacked my things and waited for you. I stayed put for a couple of weeks before I finally decided to come and find you instead."

Draco's mouth was dry as he tried to process the information. His mother had actually received his letters? His owl had taken them to her? His owl had known where his mother was? And where exactly was that, anyway? "Where were you, mother?" he asked slowly.

Narcissa sighed and caressed his cheek comfortingly. "The private estate in France. Remember when we went that one summer? It was ours, just ours. Not even Lucius knew about it. I thought that you would have recalled that."

Draco's eyes widened as he remembered playing in the sunny fields and running through the several glimmering corridors of their French getaway. "But I did," he whispered to himself, "I just didn't think that you would—"

Narcissa pulled him into a slightly awkward hug, their chairs restricting their grip to some extent. "I love you, Draco. Please forgive me for abandoning you without even saying goodbye." She said softly. Draco just closed his eyes and held her tighter, saying nothing. After the initial shock, he was admittedly angry and hurt and moody for many months after, wondering why she had left him and questioning her love for him. But as of right now, he was just ecstatic to have her back.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I know that this may not be the most ideal time to discuss this, but we need to put out an official statement of your reappearance. Also, about the previous charges against you for Death Eater activity, do not worry of them. Greatly influenced by the testimonies that Harry Potter had given after the war, you had been released of any charges against you prior to your disappearance." Dumbledore said serenely, not having uttered a word throughout her explanation.

Narcissa smiled gratefully at him. "I should thank him properly for that." She murmured quietly. "But thank you for easing my mind, Mr. Dumbledore. You too, Severus." She walked over to Snape and pulled him into a quick hug.

"What for?" said Snape, looking quite surprised at her display of affection.

"For keeping my son safe when I could not," she replied. Draco smiled at his godfather's still bewildered expression.

"Come, let us discuss other arrangements for you, Mrs. Malfoy. Seeing as your Manor is still under search by the Ministry, you do not have a place to stay. We will be happy to have you here, if you so choose." Dumbledore said kindly, his eyes twinkling with delight.

Narcissa nodded her head, smiling, "Yes. Thank you."

Snape motioned towards the door. "Come on, Draco. If I am not mistaken, it is time for both of us to head down to my class," he said, grimacing slightly. Draco looked around in surprise. He hadn't noticed before, but they had been in the office for the past couple of hours. _Harry must be driving himself bonkers by now. _As if Snape could read his thoughts, he wrinkled his nose in disgust and sneered, "And Potter probably requires your assistance with the doll. He's observably quite incompetent."

Draco smiled at his godfather's obvious displeasure with the fact that they would both be attending Marriage Sex and Family and would most likely be bombarded by an extremely anxious and worried Harry Potter. He walked towards the door. "Okay, let's go," he said.

Before he could leave, Narcissa reached out and pulled him aside. "Wait. About Harry Potter—"

Draco blushed, remembering that he had confessed his relationship with Harry in the letters. How embarrassing. But how was he to know that his mother would actually receive them? "Yes, Mother. He's my boyfriend." He said awkwardly, rubbing his neck.

Narcissa smiled a little. "I figured so. I only read one of your letters, but I'm sure all of them are frequently about him," she replied.

Draco bit his lip, realizing that she was right. "I know you probably don't like him all that much now, but I promise that you will," he said earnestly, receiving a raised eyebrow from his mother. "Harry's brilliant and sweet and compassionate, like nobody I've ever met before. He makes me feel so happy, and he could charm the pants off of anyone," he smiled slyly, thinking of the night before when Harry had literally 'charmed his pants off'.

His mother paused and backed up in surprise for a moment and looked at him searchingly. She probably didn't expect him to gush like that. Malfoys never gush. Draco looked away from her, suddenly uncomfortable. She sighed. "I don't doubt any of that, Draco. I know that he is a good, strong boy. He will protect you with everything he's got, and that's all I can ask for as a mother."

Draco beamed at her and Narcissa's eyes softened at his glowing smile. She motioned towards the door, silently telling him to go to class. He hugged her again. "I'm in love with him, Mother." He whispered in her ear. He felt his heart constrict as he thought of Harry's dazzling smile and playful disposition. "And he loves me too."

Narcissa's arms tightened around him. "If he makes you happy Draco, then I'm happy too." She said and pulled back, her eyes glimmering with genuine elation. Draco left Dumbledore's office feeling lighter than he had in over a year.

As soon as Draco had walked into Marriage Sex and Family, Harry had literally pummeled him with his body and then verbally pummeled him with millions of questions. Draco explained as thoroughly as he could while also continuously reassuring Harry that he was _fine_, so stop fretting! He took Harry down to his mother's new room to visit later that night. Harry was an absolute mess and was horribly nervous about officially meeting Draco's mother. He had worried endlessly and paced their room for 45 minutes before they'd come. Draco chuckled as Harry—for the fourth time—tripped and almost dropped Rebecca. Harry was so adorable when he was uneasy.

Draco tapped on her door while Harry rocked back and forth on his heels. Draco laughed and stilled him, grabbing his face and planting tiny kisses on his lips to calm him. Narcissa opened the door as Draco bestowed one last quick kiss on Harry's mouth. Harry looked dreadfully embarrassed, but Draco saw that his mother's eyes sparkled with delight.

"Hello Draco," she said, hugging him cheerfully. "And Harry Potter! What a pleasure," she chirped, pulling a wide-eyed Harry into an equally enthusiastic embrace. Narcissa let go of the astonished boy and gazed at him seriously. "Thank you for everything you have done for my son and I. We are both very lucky to have you."

Draco had the joy of seeing Harry's face turn a pretty shade of pink. "Erm," Harry said eloquently. Narcissa and Draco both chuckled.

"And is this Rebecca? Oh!" Narcissa's eyes lit up when she saw her in Harry's arms. Harry passed Becca over to her and she cradled the doll lovingly. "Rebecca," she repeated, looking up at Draco and giving him one of the brightest smiles he had ever seen. "Thank you," she said. Something about the sight of his own mother cradling their baby doll and calling her Rebecca was so touching that he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He nodded in response, afraid that his voice would break if he spoke.

He and Harry spent a good three hours sitting on the couch just talking with his mother. Harry had eventually stopped stammering and began to light up the room with his enthusiasm and charisma. Draco was quite proud of him. He had managed to be hilarious, charming and polite all at once. Narcissa was visibly impressed, and Draco had to give him props for achieving such a rare success.

Actually, Harry and Narcissa had gotten along fantastically as they chattered on about this and that. Draco saw his mother's blue eyes gleam when Harry was telling a particularly captivating story, and watched Harry's emerald ones widen as he tried to capture her every word. He even had to forcibly pull Harry away from their conversation when it was almost curfew and they had to go. Draco could not have asked for a more perfect evening. His mother was back and his boyfriend was scoring major points with her. Draco sighed in contentment as he closed his eyes to sleep, feeling Harry's fingers curl around his. His life was finally just the way that it should be.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: Actually, I've planned out that this will be the second to last chapter and the next one will be the last one instead of like three more. I don't want to draw it out too long or anything. How do you like it so far? :) Any suggestions (and reviews!) are VERY welcome! Now, Draco's POV!**

Chapter 23

The weeks leading to graduation day moved swiftly, leaving Draco in a startled dust. It had all gone so quickly. Every night for the past few weeks, he and Harry would visit Narcissa to catch up, sometimes bringing friends like Blaise and Pansy, or Granger and Weasley, who had joined them a couple of times. It was ridiculous, how wonderfully his mother and Harry were getting along. His mother constantly fawned over how sweet Harry was, how funny and charming he was and 'oh did you notice how wonderful Harry is at everything he does?' every time Draco went to visit her alone. In fact, right now Harry had gone to see her before class to drop off Rebecca and chat a bit.

Draco rolled his eyes and picked at his breakfast. He had just wanted them to tolerate each other, not to become each other's best friend. Harry was his, not his mother's, for Merlin's sake! But he had to admit; it was quite amusing to see Harry blush whenever Narcissa fretted over him, so Draco took what he could get anyway. Besides, Harry and Draco got to spend a lot more alone time together now that his mother agreed to watch over Rebecca-doll and Granger and Weasley had—well they had begun some sort of convoluted relationship where they would fight one minute then snog another. Weasley had hugged Harry and told him 'thank you' after it had happened some two weeks ago. Harry had just winked and pretended to zip up his lips. _Sometimes,_ _I think I have too much of an influence on him._

Blaise joined Draco at the breakfast table, grinning widely. Draco groaned inwardly, recognizing that look. Blaise was in a particularly taunting mood, and Draco was the only target here. "Hello sunshine," Blaise chirped, sitting across from him. "How are you? You look tired. Why, did you not get enough sleep last night?" Blaise asked innocently, knowing quite well that Draco knew that Blaise knew_ exactly_ what reason had kept him up and why. And that particular reason had beautiful green eyes; a lightening shaped scar, and a tongue that could do unspeakably amazing things.

Draco scowled at him. "I'm floating on a fucking cloud, thank you. Now bugger off."

Blaise winked at him and grinned suggestively. "Ah yes, exactly. Buggering! Now where is that little tramp of a boyfriend that you—oh, hello Harry!" Draco turned around and saw Harry standing behind him, one eyebrow raised at Blaise.

"Here I am, you prat," he said sweetly, sliding in next to Draco and grabbing his hand.

Blaise grinned cheekily at him and waved at Granger as she sat down. "Done snogging your boyfriend already? But you were only gone ten minutes!" he teased.

Granger hit him on the arm playfully. "Shut up, Blaise," she said, her cheeks flushed.

Harry smiled at the both of them. "Don't worry, Hermione. He's just mad because he was incapable of 'buggering off' last night," he turned to Draco. "Am I right, love?"

Draco smirked at Blaise, then turned back to his boyfriend. "Oh, yeah. No buggering for Blaise."

Blaise pretended to pout. "Well, you guys are both bastards and I don't need you anyway. Especially you Draco, you little shit!" he proclaimed with an exaggerated sniffle. Draco and Harry both grinned broadly.

Granger rolled her eyes at their juvenile games and turned to talk to Harry. She lowered her voice significantly so that Draco had to strain his ears to hear her. "So, have you talked to Justin yet Harry? He says you wanted to—"

Harry interrupted her loudly. "Um, not now Hermione," he said quickly, glancing at Draco. Draco pretended not to notice what was going on, but that little warning bell was going off in his brain. What was Harry doing hanging around Finch-Fletchley and hiding it from him?

Granger tried again. "So, how about that today is our last day of classes? It's a relief, really," she said, actually sounding a little remorseful.

Harry grinned at her, not noticing her tone. "Yeah! I can't believe there's only three days left until graduation. It's so exciting!"

Draco smiled halfheartedly at his enthusiasm. As much as he wanted to get out and start living life as a mature adult, he would sort of miss being here. Being at Hogwarts gave him an excuse to see and talk to people that he would never bother with before. He would miss the Quidditch games, the Hogsmeade trips, study sessions with Harry, lessons, the professors… even the ones that gave him loads of homework and made him doze off in class. Draco would miss it all. If he should leave, he couldn't ever come back, at least not in the same way. It was an odd sense of growing nostalgia, not wanting to let go of something that he had become so accustomed to over the years. But Draco wasn't scared of that, really, he was an expert at change and new beginnings. What really made him anxious was the possibility that he might experience them all alone. He looked over at Harry, who was chewing on his bacon happily and sighed. _Hopefully, I won't have to._

Draco attempted to be at least somewhat pleasant to the professors and his peers in most of his classes, knowing that it would be his last with them. He tried not to feel upset that everything he knew was fading away into something completely new. What if he wasn't ready yet? He bit his lip nervously as he, having already picked up Rebecca from his mother's room, headed to his Marriage Sex and Family class. He looked down at the doll in his arms. It would be his last day with her, too. He felt a pang of misery in his chest. Oh, why does everything have to end?

Draco spotted Harry walking with Finch-Fletchley on their way to class and they were discussing something quite animatedly. Remembering Harry's hasty attempt to hide something from him, Draco trailed behind them in one of the corridors, trying to listen in on their conversation.

Harry looked a little miffed as he spoke. "Justin, I can't wait any longer, I've got to do this by graduation!"

Finch-Fletchley looked tired. "I know Harry, don't worry. My parents are going to come, so you can talk to them personally if you wish. I've got everything else under control, trust me. Does Malfoy know anything about this?" Draco froze at the mention of his name. He almost lost them as they rounded a corner.

Harry shook his head; his hair falling over his eyes like it did when he was uneasy. "No, he has no idea and I don't want him to find out. Just think of the way he'd react if he knew what I was doing behind his back. He'd be livid!"

Finch-Fletchley laughed. "Yeah, he would. Listen, I'll catch up with you later tonight, okay? Be careful wiggling out of whatever Malfoy's got planned so he doesn't suspect anything."

"I will. Justin, I love you for this!"

Draco stopped in the middle of the corridor and let them continue walking on their own. What was Harry hiding from him, with Finch-Fletchley of all people? A thought prodded irritatingly at his brain, but he refused to let it in. No. Harry would never do anything to hurt him. Besides, maybe he was overreacting. He did have a tendency to become a little paranoid. He thought of the incident with Granger and grimaced slightly. Okay, maybe a lot paranoid. But point made, he was probably just being melodramatic. Still, the conversation refused to disappear from his brain. When Draco reached the corridor to the Room of Requirement, he saw Harry standing outside.

"Hey!" Harry greeted brightly as he tickled the squealing doll. Draco nodded at him weakly, still a little daunted by his previous thoughts. Harry frowned at him. "Is something wrong?"

Draco started to shake his head, but stopped. "Guess I'm just going to miss this place, that's all." He decided that he would leave the part out about Harry's suspicious behavior with a certain Hufflepuff boy. For now.

Harry's frown disappeared and he took Draco's free hand gently. "I know, I will too. But the future will hold great things for us, I promise."

Draco's ears perked up at the word 'us'. Was Harry suggesting that he wanted them to have a future? Maybe he wasn't cheating on him with Finch-Fletchley, after all. _Oops_, he thought, chiding his treacherous brain for letting in the unmentionable notion. He was about to question Harry about his words, but they had arrived in the classroom and Snape was already there.

"Today is the last day of this class," Snape's cynical voice boomed in the spacious, echoing room. The students, all being 8th years and soon-to-be graduates, were all quiet with wistful recollection. "You shall hand in your year-long project today. We will have one more class discussion where you and your partner will tell the rest of us what you've learned that you have found most valuable to you. You shall receive your grade promptly after you share." Snape said, not sorrowful in the slightest with the end of teaching this so-called "horrendous" class. He'll probably have a party later in celebration of "No more Potter! Woohoo!" Because that's just how Snape was.

They all gathered around in a large circle and Draco listened numbly to the accounts of many pairs, feeling a growing anxiety in his heart as people shared. He grabbed Harry's hand to make sure that he was still there, and sighed in relief when Harry squeezed back. He wasn't going anywhere. "Granger, Zabini." Snape called out.

Blaise and Granger looked at each other and in unspoken agreement, Blaise started first. "With this project, I learned that you shouldn't judge someone by the way that they act or dress or by who they're friends with. Because sometimes that person could turn out to be the wittiest, most graciously intelligent girl I have ever met. I'm so glad that I didn't block Hermione out in our project. We proved to be quite the power duo in the working world. I'm going to use the skills that I've discovered from her later in my life." Blaise grinned at a beaming Granger.

Granger cleared her throat and began talking as well. "I've learned that there are still things that I don't know, as reluctant as I am to admit it," she cracked a smile and waited while the people around her chuckled, "Like how Blaise Zabini is not the horribly arrogant Slytherin that I had previously assumed he was. He's hilarious and a wonderful friend to talk to and work with. After we put aside our differences, we discovered that we have a lot in common. We have immense ambition and work ethic and we both intend to use it in our future careers."

They looked at each other in agreement and admiration. Snape rolled his eyes. "Alright, you receive an Outstanding." Draco sighed. No surprise there. "Parkinson and Weasley." Snape drawled again.

They didn't look at each other to decide but Weasley spoke up first anyway, like the brazen Gryffindor that he is. "I learned that Slytherin girls are tricky bitc—er, people who like to play pranks when they are inside your mind. I'll use this in the future by avoiding to share it with them ever again." Weasley looked quite proud of himself and Snape glared at him venomously for his smart-arse summary.

Pansy quirked an eyebrow at Weasley before speaking, showing him that two could play at that game. "I've learned that even bumbling Gryffindor redheads sometimes have a sense of humor. And really simple thought processes. I'll use this later if I ever want to pull one over on him."

Weasley gave her a look with just a hint of respect and she returned it with a small, smug smile. Snape rolled his eyes again. "I suppose you can scrape by with an Acceptable." The two of them looked quite content with that answer. Draco smiled at Pansy. Though she and Weasley never really became good friends, they learned to tolerate and even tease each other a bit. That was a miracle in itself.

"Potter, Malfoy." Snape said with a slight tinge of annoyance. Draco glanced over at Harry, who nodded his head, indicating that he'd go first. Draco nodded back in acceptance.

Harry began to speak. "This project has really opened my eyes to a world that we are going to become a part of in a few days. I was truly worried before about my future in the real world, whether I'd be able to handle it or not. But caring for Rebecca has made me understand what the challenge of the future really holds for me. I mean, battling Voldemort couldn't even compare to this. This baby is loud, demanding, smelly, needy—and it must be tended to at all times. It's the kind of thing that is highly annoying to deal with, but that I would never let anybody else do because it's my job and my responsibility and my child. I never knew that a connection would form that made me worry and fuss and coo over Rebecca like I did. But I guess with parenthood comes consequences. You get this horrible, nagging feeling in your stomach whenever something has gone wrong with them. You feel joy when they are joyous; you feel sorrow when they are unhappy. To be a parent is to have a whole other life to be responsible for—and that's something that I had no idea how it felt before. I figure that if I could handle taking care of a screaming, whiny, high maintenance baby for a school year, then I can handle pretty much anything.

I've also learned that I really am a difficult person to get along with, but I'm sure most of you know that already. But the thing is, it's a completely surreal situation to have to share the responsibility of a baby. I can admit that it is completely awful to have to squabble with me incessantly over a baby doll, but somehow Draco has found a way to deal with me effectively and balance me out when I get irrational. He's the only one who could ever do that.

I would've never have known that I could find such a valuable friend if not for this project. If I could go back and alter this journey, I wouldn't have changed a single thing about it. Sure it's been a rough ride but frankly, I needed that slap in the face and it has made me a better person overall. It has also given me the opportunity to explore, enjoy, and appreciate parenthood as I get older. But most importantly, it has given me a direct path to my future." Harry looked pointedly at him with those piercing emerald eyes and gently squeezed his hand. Draco bit back a smile.

Snape rolled his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time and looked impatiently over at Draco to take his turn. He nodded and cleared his throat. "I did not believe that I would learn anything in this class at the beginning of the year. I loathed the idea of spending time thinking about a future that I didn't know would ever exist for me. I thought that the idea of pretending to take care of a baby was idiotic and I was angry that I was forced to do such a thing.

But from taking care of Rebecca, I've learned how to care about and love someone as fully as I would myself and there's no offer in this world that would make me want to give that feeling up. I started out being completely incompetent with Rebecca and I didn't know how to do anything for her. I was uncomfortable and impatient and irritated all the time. But Harry was a natural parent; he knew exactly what to do to calm her down and how to make her giggle. I tried to follow his example but just as it was natural to him, it was foreign to me. I definitely resented that she liked him more than me, but I can see the logic in that. I'm still terrible at changing diapers and making her bed, but I know that it doesn't matter as much anymore because what's really important is that I am trying and I do care.

And regarding what Harry said, he's not the only one who can be a stubborn git. There were times that we clashed opinions and snapped and tried to bite each other's heads off. But it's a certain kind of bickering that has bonded us even more. We truly know each other now: the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly, the ecstasy and the heartbreak. I might've scoffed at the changes that have occurred throughout this project before, but since then I've learned that change is good. Even the kind that you think is quite impossible and you had long before given up on."

He stole a glance at Harry's smiling face before he continuing. "Lastly, I've learned that an enemy does not always have to be an enemy. If you're lucky, they can become a brilliant and everlasting friend. I guess I was even luckier than that because I've found something even deeper here with Harry. He's made me feel like I have a chance to mold my own future in the way that I want to, not of what others expect of me. Before this class, I wasn't ready for the world. But now, I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Draco took a deep breath and smiled. Harry kissed his cheek softly.

Snape groaned in disgust, but he didn't look so spiteful towards Harry anymore. He even looked rather deferential. "Hand me your project."

Draco silently walked over and gave Snape their baby doll. He sat back down with Harry, gripping his hand to stop himself from getting emotional. He could feel Harry's hand trembling slightly too. Snape inspected the doll for a few moments before he announced, "Outstanding," and caught Draco's eye meaningfully before moving on to the next pair. Draco smiled. Snape's momentary look was a clear message to him: 'it is a rare moment when men like us find that. So if of all people he makes you feel this way, don't ever let him go.' And Draco wouldn't. Not for his life.

Draco began to realize what he had really just declared in his speech. Why was he so anxious before about the future? He shouldn't worry anymore, because Harry would be there for him and Draco knew that he would never leave. Draco had grown up considerably during this past year, both of them had. Now they could leave this place together, conquer the world and show everybody just what the dynamic duo could _really_ accomplish.

And oh, Draco Malfoy was _so_ ready to graduate.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: Here it is guys, last chapter! I've basically prepared the entire fic for this one sooo… Hopefully it'll satisfy! I'll write an epilogue if you guys want me to. I'll ask again at the end of this. :) This is Draco's POV.**

Chapter 24

Draco fiddled with the collar of his robes for the third time since he had put it on. He fiddled with his hair. He fiddled with his badge. He fiddled with the tassel on the ridiculous hat they were all required to wear. In other words, Draco was positively, undeniably, and irrefutably going mad with nerves.

Harry watched him fuss over his hair once again and laughed easily. "Draco, calm down. You look stunning, like always."

Draco's only response was a disgruntled snort as he continued to manipulate his locks. The full-length mirrors in Gryffindor tower were not nearly as large as in the dungeons and they didn't give any feedback, either. They were just plain, ordinary muggle mirrors. _Trust Gryffindor to be the only House to have them_, he thought with dry amusement. Since they'd given Rebecca back to Snape, it wasn't required of them to stay in the same dorms and sleep in the same bed anymore. Draco had even tried to go back to Slytherin that night and had felt absolutely miserable and alone without Rebecca and Harry cuddled up beside him. Apparently, Harry had felt the same and snuck into the Slytherin dorms under his invisibility cloak to join him. Draco had no idea how Harry had even gotten inside in the first place because the passwords had been changed since he was there, but he didn't question it at the time. They were too busy doing… other activities.

Harry walked over and wrapped his arms around Draco, gazing at their reflection in the mirror. "Look at us, all ready to graduate. Together," he observed softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Draco's neck.

Draco smiled wistfully. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"

Harry chuckled and glanced at their reflections again. "Yeah, I'd say we are."

Draco turned his head slightly so that he was facing Harry and kissed him on the nose. Harry gazed at him with amusement and Draco smirked teasingly back, kissing him on the mouth this time. He turned his body and threw his arms around Harry's neck, kissing all over his face frantically, desperately. If everything else was to change rapidly without his consent around him, he only had one request: to stay like this forever, in Harry's arms, on Harry's lips. Harry pulled back suddenly and looked down at the muggle watch on his wrist. "Ah shit," he said, gasping a little from their exertions.

Draco stared at him impatiently. "What?"

Harry smiled apologetically at him. "I've got to go somewhere before the ceremony. I'll meet you down at the Great Hall, okay?"

Draco frowned. "Where are you going?"

Harry eyes shifted so that he wasn't looking directly at Draco. "Um, the library."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Why? Classes are over."

Harry shook his hair so that it was covering his eyes a bit and coughed. Draco caught the movement and stared at Harry in disbelief. He was hiding something. "I—I've got to… Actually, I'm just going to… Go to the kitchens and—"

Both of Draco's eyebrows were raised considerably high now. "Alright, the kitchens then. Who are you going to go meet… _there,_ Harry?"

Harry looked visibly ill at ease. "Uh, nobody. Just hungry."

Draco narrowed his eyes and sneered with incredulity. How dare Harry just stand there and lie blatantly to his face! "You've always been a terrible liar Harry, this is not an exception! Tell me who you are going to meet there _now_!"

Harry flinched at his sharp tone and answered meekly. "Hermione… We're going to go over my speech to make sure there are no errors, and I want some food. Okay?"

Draco eyed him suspiciously. Harry was stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze, so therefore he was still lying. He sighed in an irritated manner, giving up. "Fine. I'll see you there, then."

Harry's green eyes shone with relief when he shifted them back to Draco. "Alright!" He started to untangle himself from Draco's grasp, but he held him tighter. Draco's hand clutched at some of Harry's hair and pulled his face forward aggressively, seizing his lips with his own. He ravished Harry's mouth with unreserved passion, possessively invading every inch of it—his lips, his tongue, his teeth—everything. Harry was _his_ and _only his_. Draco had to make him remember that.

"Mine," he growled, nipping at Harry's lips with his teeth. "All_ mine_." Harry moaned mindlessly at his words, gasping and gulping for air, his bright eyes glimmering with need. Draco took that as unspoken compliance to his statement. He pressed tiny, sensitive kisses upon Harry's swollen lips to say sorry for bruising them.

Harry sighed and pulled away from him gently. "I've really got to go," he said. Draco nodded mutely and stared at Harry's reddened mouth before Harry turned and left the room. Draco looked back to the mirror at his own reflection. His hair was mussed, his lips were scarlet, and his eyes were wide with a wild expression. It was quite a compelling image, but it frightened him at the same time. He sighed and fiddled with his collar again.

Half an hour later, Draco wandered down to the Gryffindor common room to burn off some extra time before meeting Harry for the ceremony. He frowned when he saw Granger sitting on the couch next to Weasley. It was true that he had suspected Harry was lying to him, but it was a whole other feeling when he could actually see the evidence of the lie with his own eyes. Draco clenched his teeth and took a deep breath, trying not to get emotional. _Not here._ He walked over to sit across from the pair. "Weasley, Granger," he said, greeting them both with nods.

Weasley nodded back stiffly and Granger smiled at him. "Hello Malfoy," she said benignly.

Draco tried to smile back, but it seemed as if his mouth was permanently set in a firm line. "You… Have you seen Harry recently?" he asked her casually, hoping that maybe they'd already met and Harry was just at the kitchens by himself now. His hopes deflated when Granger shook her head.

"No, haven't seen him in hours. Why?"

Draco gazed at her questioningly. "Didn't he need help with his speech?"

Granger raised an eyebrow. "I helped him with that last night. And it's not as if he needs to be especially eloquent anyways because everybody knows that he's not. He doesn't even care much about it at all, you know how he is."

"Do I?" Draco muttered bitterly to himself under his breath.

Granger, with her ears like a bloody hawk's, heard his words and shot him her surely-patented-by-now Look of Concern. "Is something wrong?"

Draco glared down at his feet, not wanting to meet her scrutinizing gaze. "No."

She sighed and pulled him to his feet and led him to a more secluded area of the common room. He looked at her with surprise. "Really. What's going on?" she asked with her hands on her hips, the tone of her voice firm and motherly.

Draco raised his chin. "It's nothing, Granger," he replied curtly.

"Malfoy!"

"Okay, okay!" he said, raising his hands up. "I think—well, I know— that Harry's been lying to me about all sorts of little things for a couple weeks now. I just… I don't know why."

Granger frowned. "He's lying to you? About what?"

Draco shrugged and looked away. "Where he's going, who he's meeting and why."

Granger's eyes softened and she put her hand on his shoulder gently. "He would never hurt you, Malfoy. He's Harry, for Merlin's sake, he's incapable of deliberately hurting anyone."

Draco looked at his feet. "Deliberately," he repeated softly.

Granger gazed at him sympathetically. "Don't worry. It'll be okay, I promise."

He nodded wordlessly at her and walked towards the portrait hole. It was almost time to meet Harry now. "Thanks," he called over his shoulder at her. He saw her smile in response.

Draco was just about to turn into the corridor towards the Great Hall when he heard voices coming from inside a nearby classroom. He spun around and pressed his ear to the door with interest. "So your parents are okay with this? I didn't get the chance to meet up with them, Draco stalled me considerably... I mean, I know they aren't fond of gay couples, but—" Draco frowned when he heard Harry's earnest voice.

"No, it's fine Harry. My parents know that I care about you and this means a great deal to you. Besides, they wouldn't discriminate against the Boy-Who-Lived." Draco glowered. It was Finch-Fletchley! He would know that pitchy voice anywhere.

"Good," Harry sounded relieved. "This_ is _very important to me. You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"No. And I assume that Malfoy doesn't know either?"

"Well he was a bit suspicious, but I think I threw him off... sort of. I don't know. I'm pretty nervous. What if he gets angry?"

"Why would he get angry?"

"Oh, I don't know. But it could happen, I suppose."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Harry? It's quite a risk—"

Harry's jingling laugh interrupted him. "You know how I am about risks, Justin! Anyway, come here, I want to see it again."

Now Finch-Fletchley laughed. "I've already shown you a million times!"

"But I'll never get enough of looking at it! Come on now, take it out!" Even Harry's whining was lovely. Finch-Fletchley chuckled again, and there were some shuffling sounds.

"Merlin, it's beautiful." Harry sounded out of breath.

Finch-Fletchley's voice was tender. "And it's all yours now."

Draco stumbled back from the door, his mind reeling with sick comprehension. No. No. Harry was his. Harry would never— He started to sprint down the corridor blindly, deceiving tears falling from his eyes. How could he? Harry said that he _loved_ him, he made Draco love him back, and now he was throwing it all away planning a future with another bloke? Oh gods. He couldn't breathe. He ran all the way to his mother's room and threw the door open without even knocking.

His mother looked up from her seat by the fireplace, a book open in her lap. "Draco, what are you—?" She stopped as she saw the wretched look on his face. She got up and rushed to his side, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "What's wrong?" She asked urgently, gazing into his eyes. Draco felt his lips tremble as he saw the genuine concern reflecting in her eyes. He broke down into her arms and confessed all of his worries—about his future, about change, about life and finally, about Harry.

After he was done ruining her silk blouse with his tears, she sat him down on the chair. "Draco, it'll be okay. I promise." Her words were the same as Granger's not only 30 minutes earlier. "You are a brilliant, talented young man. Your future is bright, your opportunities are endless—don't let people tell you otherwise. Yes, you will have to fight for your right to be there more often than the average wizard… but that's what makes you so strong. You handle change better than anybody I know—actually, you handle _everything_ better than anybody I know. I know that you can do anything you set your mind to, Draco." she paused, an odd expression appearing on her face. "And Harry… Don't worry about him. He truly loves you, he does. I see it in his eyes when he looks at you—it was the same look I used to give your father…" she trailed off, a hint of pain flickering in her eyes. Draco took her hand comfortingly and she cleared her throat and continued.

"But what I'm trying to say, Draco, is that Harry won't ever hurt you. Okay?" She rubbed his arm consolingly. Draco blinked slowly, processing the familiar words again. Sometimes, his mother and Granger could be quite eerily similar when it came to advice.

He gave her a slight smile and got up. "The ceremony is going to start soon."

She nodded, heading towards her bathroom. "Go on, Draco. I'll see you there." But Draco didn't move. He wasn't about to go meet Harry after his little breakdown. He needed time to think. She shrugged and let him stay.

Draco stared intently towards the front of the room, not meeting anyone's gaze as he sat down in his chair. He knew before he heard the voice that Harry was right behind him. "Draco! Why didn't you meet me before?" Harry asked hurriedly, appearing in the seat next to him.

Draco didn't look at him. "That's not your seat," he responded evenly, not answering the question.

Even though Draco couldn't see him, he knew that Harry looked extremely bewildered. He put his hand on Draco's arm. "What's wrong, Draco?"

Draco jerked away from him. "Nothing. Go away, Potter." He sensed Harry jump back at the use of his surname and leave to his own seat without a word. Draco clenched his fists, attempting to ignore the tingling spot where Harry's hand had been a minute ago. He bit his lip to keep his Malfoy mask from slipping and continued to stare ahead.

"Welcome students, faculty, and parents!" Dumbledore's mild voice echoed throughout the Great Hall. "It is an enormous pleasure to see this fine group of students graduate today. They have my greatest admiration for having had to grow up far more quickly than they should have, providing an invaluable source of bravery and heart. I am proud to send these students off to their undeniably bright futures, as they are the era whose courage and will has brought us the world we have today and we could not be more grateful. Now before we begin the ceremony, we shall have a few words from our own Mr. Harry Potter."

The crowd erupted in ear splittingly loud applause. They cheered boisterously as practically every person in the room stood up to clap for him. Draco looked over and saw Harry embarrassedly smile at everyone around him, then turn towards Finch-Fletchley and hug him. When Finch-Fletchley pressed his hand into Harry's, Draco saw red. He jumped up, shoving the people in his way aside and marched over to where they were seated.

He shoved at Harry's shoulder violently. "HOW COULD YOU?" he screamed. His shouts echoed as the Hall grew quiet.

Harry pulled away from Finch-Fletchley quickly and put the offending hand in his pocket. "What are you talking about?" Harry asked calmly, not quite meeting his eye.

Draco felt his face heating up with anger. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT AM I TALKING ABOUT? YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN JUST WALTZ IN HERE AND PRETEND LIKE YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IS WRONG? LOOK AT ME!" Draco grabbed Harry's face and turned it towards his. Harry had that puzzled look on again.

"Why?" Draco asked, quieter this time. "What does he have that I don't?"

Draco saw Harry's eyes widen. "What? Who? Wait—Justin?" Harry sounded legitimately perplexed.

"_What?_" Finch-Fletchley screeched in mortification, "_No_, no I'm not—!" Harry suddenly interrupted him with a loud giggle. The giggle turned into a few small chuckles and then erupted into full-blown hysteria. Draco stared at him in disbelief.

"What the hell are you laughing about?" he demanded, folding his arms across his chest defiantly. "This isn't funny!"

Harry stopped hooting and wiped his teary eyes. "Oh, oh Draco, you silly git! Why couldn't you just have waited another five minutes for my speech!" he started laughing again.

Draco frowned. "For _what_?"

Harry faced him, his laughter slowly dying down. "When are you going to get it through your thick head that I'm not interested in anybody but you?"

Draco gaped as Harry slowly got down on one knee in front of him. "Wha—What?" he stuttered.

"Justin's parents sell jewelry," Harry said slowly. "He was merely delivering my purchase to me." He looked up at Draco, his vibrant emerald eyes absolutely iridescent. "I'm _never _going to want anybody else, can't you see that? You're the one… the one that I wish to spend the rest of my life with." Draco stared in shock as Harry pulled out a small box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a sparkling silver band.

"Draco Malfoy, will you marry me... again?"

Draco's mouth uncharacteristically hung open in complete disbelief as the room exploded with excited whispers. Harry was proposing to him? He wasn't cheating on him with Finch-Fletchley? Draco thought back and analyzed the conversations that he had overheard. Oh. Well, it all made sense _now_. Merlin was he wrong! As usual… He glanced over apologetically at Finch-Fletchley, silently taking back all of the nasty things that he had wished upon the Hufflepuff. Then he looked back down at Harry, who was still kneeling and holding out the tiny box. Harry's eyes shifted around anxiously and he was biting his lip in the most adorable manner, looking entirely uncomfortable with himself.

"Er—" Harry said weakly, trying to invoke a response out of him. When Draco remained silent, Harry started to get up in defeat.

Draco grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace instead. "I hate you," he said, crashing his mouth onto Harry's with vigor. His lips moved in a desperately eager way again—this time in liberation and euphoria rather than insecure possessiveness.

Harry broke away from him, his eyes shining with elation. "I love you too," he said, slipping the ring onto Draco's slender finger with a grin. Draco beamed back and started kissing him again, even more fervently than before.

Dumbledore cleared his throat at the front of the room. "Gentleman, if we could proceed—" Harry pulled away again and interrupted him.

"Right away, sir." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he stepped away from the podium for him. Harry, still pleasantly flushed from their embrace, smiled out at the crowd. "Sorry about that, I _was_ going to do that at the end of my speech, but I think someone was a little too impatient," he winked as the audience laughed and Draco blushed furiously.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. To all of my professors, my classmates and their families—the battle for peace could not have been won without you. We've achieved our goals then and we can achieve them now and in our futures. Hogwarts has been my haven and home for the past 8 years. Yes, it has taught me how to use magic properly, but it has also given me so much more than that. It has given me the opportunity to explore the endless possibilities of life and has shown me how a real family should function—because that's what we are, a family. It has taught me never to give up on or shy away from the things that I believe in. It has trained me to become the person I've always wanted to be. But most of all, it has taught me that I am never alone. I will be forever grateful for what I've gained here. We may be leaving here today, but we will always be that generation—the one that fought for peace, the one that has been with each other through thick and thin, and the one that will continue to do so for the rest of our lives. I am proud to call you guys my classmates and my friends and I wish you all the best of luck in your futures. Thank you."

Harry stepped down from the podium and the crowd burst into booming applause again. Draco could see many people in the audience dabbing their eyes. He saw his mother smiling brightly, Pansy and Blaise beaming with their arms around each other, even Granger and Weasley grinning from ear to ear—at him. But the most beautiful of all was Harry's glowing smile, the heart-shattering one that was meant only for Draco. He felt tears sliding down his own face, but not out of sadness. He had everything that he could ever want now.

Harry walked over to him but before either of them could say anything, someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around. Snape stood there, holding the Rebecca doll awkwardly in his arms. "Here," he mumbled, handing the doll over to Harry. "It doesn't function anymore, but… I thought you might like to keep it. For the memories, I suppose." The words he said weren't much but the meaning went deeper than that, as everything Uncle Severus said did.

Harry gazed up at the professor's face with unadulterated respect. "Thank you sir, I mean it. For everything."

Draco grinned and added, "And we will miss you, as well." Snape looked thoroughly uncomfortable with that and slinked away without another word.

Harry smiled and grabbed Draco's hand, pulling him into the line that was forming to receive their diplomas. Draco took a deep breath and looked forward towards the podium, towards their futures, towards the beginning of the rest of his life.

**(Another) Author's Note: Sorry, I had to add a bit more drama in there. Why? Because this is a Drarry fic, of course! … So did you guys want that epilogue? ;) Anyways, thanks so much for sticking around with me! I love you all! **


	25. Epilogue

**Author's Note: Here's an epilogue for those who wanted one :) xoxo  
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Epilogue – _10 years later_

"If you want me, try and catch me!"

Draco grumbled loudly as James wriggled out of his grasp and ran in the other direction, giggling. His brothers, Albus Severus and Scorpius, laughed and cheered him on with a chorus of whoops and applause."Come on James, I need to fix your collar!" Draco shouted after him, dimly aware that it would do no good. He watched the boys disappear around the corner and plopped down on the couch in their sitting room, irritated and weary. Why Harry had insisted they had kids was still a mystery to him, and why they had to have so _many_ an even bigger one.

A moment later, Harry entered the room with James under one arm and Albus under the other, Scorpius trailing behind them. "Having trouble with the boys?" he asked Draco in amusement, setting the boys down and fixing James's collar himself. Draco just scowled at him in reply and Harry chuckled.

"I was too fast for him, Dad," James said earnestly, tugging at Harry's shirt. "Me an' Al an' Scorp!"

Harry chuckled again. "Yes, I'm sure." He ruffled James's jet-black hair with one hand.

The boy's gray eyes sparkled with mirth. "And Al messed up his nice shirt at breakfast!"

Albus's face turned scarlet. "No I didn't Daddy!" he looked up at Harry with pleading eyes for a moment, then down at the floor in shame. "Maybe just a _little_." His tiny lower lip stuck out a bit to show how sorry he was. And Harry would believe it, he always did. Draco shook his head. The small boy was the spitting image of Harry, from his untidy raven hair to his vibrant green eyes. Especially when he was making that face.

Harry looked down at him sympathetically. "It's fine, Al. Go change, okay? All of you."

The boy made a pathetic little sniffle, and then turned to look at his older brother triumphantly. The two started towards the door, animatedly talking and laughing with each other. Scorpius was quiet the entire time, his gray eyes looking steadily at Draco as if asking for approval to go. Draco smiled and nodded at him. He was the only one of their boys that had blonde hair, and he looked exactly like Draco when he was his age. He was also reserved and a bit more solemn than his rambunctious brothers. Sometimes, Draco secretly thought that Scorpius was his favorite son. The little boy smiled back and scurried after his brothers. They all ran out of the room together, shouting and jumping in a competition to be most obnoxious. Draco personally thought that they could all win. He rubbed his forehead.

"Why did I skip work today for_ this_?" he complained as Harry smiled and sat down next to him.

"Because you love them and we are going to the Weasley's for dinner, or have you forgotten?"

Draco grinned at him sheepishly. How could he forget a trip to the wild Weasley dwelling? "No, I haven't."

"Of course not. Anyway, I don't think that they need you out there as much as we do here, you strong, brave Auror," Harry teased, rubbing Draco's arm tenderly. Draco smiled. With time, arguments, influence and a whole lot of arse-busting hard work, he'd managed to get into the Auror program after graduation to fulfill his longtime wishes of helping to save the world, one criminal at a time. Harry had also entered the training program with him and they worked together as a team briefly before Harry quit and became a Healer for St. Mungo's. Draco knew that Harry had never wanted to be an Auror, but just did it to please people. And once he realized that he really didn't give a damn, he switched to what he really wanted to do. After Lily had been born 4 years ago, Harry left St. Mungo's too and now just stayed home taking care of the kids. To everybody else, it might've seemed as if Harry sacrificed his own happiness for the children, but Draco knew that Harry was truly and deliriously happy doing what he did. He wouldn't trade it for the world.

Draco sighed. "Those boys will be the death of me. How can you stand them all day? I've only got to see them in the mornings and evenings, but you! Every day. Merlin."

Harry laughed. "I reckon they've been spending too much time with Hugo. Well, at least James is, and you know how Al and Scorp do whatever he does."

Draco groaned and nodded. Hugo Weasley was a little prankster, just like his boisterous father. Not to mention his father's _best friend_, who also just happened to be Draco's husband… He looked around. "Where are the girls?"

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his ever-messy raven hair. "I got them dressed a half an hour ago, so I assume that Becca is in her cradle and Lily is helping your mother in the kitchen. She still doesn't know how to work the stove, you know."

Draco grinned. "She'll never learn. At the Manor, she has the House Elf do the cooking for her. I assume that she's just going to try and impress you and the Weasley's with her vast knowledge she hasn't actually got."

Harry grinned back. "She's wonderful the way she is."

Draco scooted closer to him. "You're wonderful."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "No, _you're _wonderful."

Draco smiled wickedly. "Let's skip the endearing couple's bickering and get to it, shall we?" he straddled Harry's lap suggestively, capturing his mouth with a swift motion. Harry's hand disappeared under his jumper and he tugged at Harry's trousers in return.

"Daddy!" The men sprang apart as Lily, the fourth child of the Potter-Malfoy family, darted into the room. She hugged Harry's waist tightly and then turned to look at Draco with wide eyes. "And Father!" she exclaimed, jumping over to his lap and hugging him happily as well. "You're home today!"

He smiled and ruffled her hair. "Yes Lily, we're all going to the Weasley's for dinner soon, don't you remember?"

Her pretty green eyes lit up. "Oh yay! I get to see Rose today!"

Draco bounced her on his leg and she giggled. "Yeah, we do."

Narcissa entered the room, carrying a bawling Becca. "Draco! Harry! Your daughter won't stop crying!" She handed Becca over to Harry, looking worn-out but nevertheless regal. Even after 10 years, she was still as beautiful as ever. She was a Malfoy, after all.

Lily got up and wrapped herself around her leg, looking concerned for her baby sister. "Is she hurt, grandma?"

Narcissa's tight expression of exhaustion smoothed out. "No honey, she's all right. Just a bit sad."

"Ooh, oh, Becca," Harry cooed, rocking the little baby back and forth. Draco remembered her birth with certain clarity. He recalled the moment that he first saw her, when his heart had swelled in a different manner than it had been with the five previous children. She had soft, fine blonde hair and stunningly emerald eyes and bronze skin. And she was Rebecca. Draco looked over at Harry cradling her with loving care, and felt his heart swelling again. He could remember watching Harry attempt to calm a tiny baby doll named Rebecca ten years ago in an empty classroom, feeling the exact same way as he was now. Proud. Actually now that he thought of it, Draco couldn't quite remember what had happened to that doll. He hadn't seen it in years. He suddenly felt the need to hold it again, if only for the memories.

Harry looked over and sensing his sentimental thoughts, passed the quieting baby over to him. "I'm going to go check on the boys. Don't stuff her with a sock, now," he said teasingly towards Draco, and Draco threw a pillow at his back as he left.

"Shut up, you tosser!" he yelled after the laughing man and grinned when he heard Harry yell back, "You wish!"

The Potter-Malfoy family arrived at the Burrow, late as usual from the routine bickering ("Dad! Al shoved me!" "No I didn't, he shoved _me_!") and Draco tapped his foot with an impatient huff. "They know we're always late, shouldn't they just leave the door open for us? It's not that hard," he complained, adjusting Becca in his arms while James and Scorpius tugged at his trousers.

"Draco, don't whine. It's unbecoming," Narcissa scolded him absently.

Harry smirked at him. "Yeah Draco, it's unbecoming," he said, his green eyes glimmering teasingly. Draco scowled at him.

Finally, Mrs. Weasley opened the door. "Hello, come in!" She ushered them inside cheerfully, pulling Harry into the customary embrace. "Harry dear, you are positively too thin, you need to eat more! Good thing I've prepared your favorites tonight."

Harry blushed. "Aw, Mrs. Weasley—" Draco grinned and shook his head. Even after all these years, Mrs. Weasley still coddled Harry.

"And Draco, my my, you're still as handsome as ever! You need to tell Harry to eat more," she chirped, turning to a now equally blushing Draco and embracing him as well. Mrs. Weasley was the merriest woman he'd ever known. After she was done hugging him, she turned to Draco's mother.

"Narcissa, how are you dear?"

Narcissa smiled warmly. "I'm rather well, Molly. Do you need help cooking?"

Draco couldn't help snorting as Mrs. Weasley smiled back. "Oh no, no that is quite alright, you are the guests here! Come on in, the family's waiting!" As the group made their way into the main room, Mrs. Weasley exclaimed quite too loudly, "It's such a pleasure to have you here for dinner, boys!"

"_SURPRISE_!"

Suddenly, people began popping up from behind the couches and plants and chairs, grinning and waving at the stunned family. Draco jumped back in surprise and felt Harry take a step back, too. The room was filled with all of their friends and family, redheads and bushy-haired spawn and ex-Slytherins alike.

"Happy 10th anniversary!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, taking Harry into a huge hug. The kids shrieked with delight and ran off to play with the other children, laughing and jumping all over the place. Draco saw Hermione and Ron approach Harry with energized grins. He scanned the room and found Theo standing over by Fred and George Weasley.

"Hey!" he called out, making his way over. "Theo!" The other man turned and grinned at him, shaking his hand.

"Draco, good to see you! How are you?"

"I'm great! How's Ginny?" he asked, scanning the area for Theo's wife of 7 years.

Theo's smile widened. "Brilliant. She's glowing, man. I swear, she's the only woman pregnancy could ever look good on."

Draco laughed. The couple was on their eighth kid now, and counting. "Honestly. Pansy was a madwoman during hers. You only crossed her if you had a death wish."

"Hey! I heard that!" Pansy walked up and slapped the back of his head. "Prat."

Draco rubbed his head. "Ouch, you crazy bint!"

She sniffed haughtily and smirked. "That's _clever, amazing _crazy bint to you, Drake."

He scowled at her. "We are _so_ not on for brunch tomorrow, you slut."

He looked up as Blaise clapped a hand on his shoulder, with Harry, Ron and Hermione trailing behind him. "Oi! Don't call my wife a slut! She's a tramp at the worst—ouch! Relax love, I was just taking the piss— OUCH!" Pansy slapped him twice on the back of his head as well.

Draco sniggered. "Been there. Still can't believe you married that lunatic."

Blaise guffawed. "You know what they say, crazies stick together. You and Harry should know, you're both insane—owwww! Oh come on!" Harry and Draco both slapped him and shared a grin at his expense.  
>"You guys are all brutal," he grumbled.<p>

Hermione giggled. "Squabbling, as usual. You'd think it has only been 10 _minutes_, not 10 _years_." She motioned towards the couch. "Well come on, presents!" Harry and Draco looked at each other in surprise. Presents?

"Mione, it's our anniversary, not our birthdays," Harry groaned, obviously uncomfortable from all the attention they were receiving.

"Oh hush up and move faster," she reprimanded, pulling them both down to sit on the couch.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave them knitted sweaters—one for everybody in their family, Fred and George brought them several test boxes for their latest products (to the delight of the children and the horror of the adults), Ginny and Nott gave them tickets to a concert for a Muggle band Draco had recently taken a liking to, and Blaise and Pansy got them a set of fine china.

Lastly, Hermione brought out a small bundle from her bag. "This is something of yours that Ron and I have found recently while we were cleaning out our flat—well, while _I_ was cleaning and Ron was complaining—" the large group laughed as Ron's face turned to a shade that matched his hair, "and we believe that you might like to have it back." She unwrapped the bundle and Draco felt Harry's hand tighten around his as she handed them the long misplaced Rebecca-doll.

"I thought we lost her," Draco breathed, staring down at the doll with nostalgia. After graduation Draco, Harry, Ron and Hermione shared a flat together so that they could take their time getting on their feet in the early stages of marriage—Ron and Hermione had gotten married only two months after he and Harry had. They had separate rooms, of course, but in that time Draco had finally gotten to know the friends that had always loved and supported Harry and discovered that he liked them quite well. And when he and Harry had moved out after about a year into a house of their own, the other couple decided to stay in the flat.

Hermione smiled softly. "I know it holds sentimental value for the both of you. I'm sorry we haven't found it earlier, but it was just in the closet of the room that you and Harry used to have and we don't normally go in there anymore—"

"Thank you," Harry said, cutting her off. "Really. We appreciate it a lot."

Draco bit his lip. "Yes, thank you Hermione. And Ron," he said quietly, smiling at the couple sitting across from them. They both smiled back. He glanced around the room, looking at all of the faces there and realized that they all loved him. Ten years ago, he didn't have a clue what love was. He had felt that he had no one to love him. Now, he could finally see just how incredibly blessed he was to have not only one person, but a whole room full of people who did.

He gazed over at his husband lastly, the beautiful and charismatic man whom Draco had somehow managed to keep. His green eyes were filled with love and joy and he was smiling that radiant smile that could still shatter Draco's heart even after all of these years, and he realized that it was truly going to be forever. There was no doubt anymore, no irrational insecurity, no listless solitude. It was just Harry and Draco, _forever._

"I love you so much," he said earnestly, placing a light kiss on Harry's lips. He felt the other man smile.

"I love you too. Happy anniversary," he whispered back.

Ron cleared his throat loudly to remind them that they still had company. "So before we start eating, why don't you and Harry give each other your presents?" he suggested.

Draco looked at Harry, who was grinning quite mischievously now.

"I think we'll give each other our… _presents_ when we get home tonight," Harry said, winking at him.

Draco winked back. "After the kids go to bed, love."

Ron made a gagging noise as everybody else laughed. "Bloody hell, you guys ruin everything… well, except for my appetite. Let's go eat!" With a collective cheer, everybody hurdled towards the kitchen in order to get a seat at the table. Draco smiled as Harry grabbed his hand and pulled him up, eager to start eating. Some things never changed.

"Come on Draco, I'm _soo _hungry, I would do anything for a treacle tart right now!"

"Anything, Harry?"

"Oh gods, _anything._"

Draco imagined all of the things that they could do with treacle tart smeared over every inch of their bodies and licked his lips.

He couldn't _wait_ to get home.

**(Another)****Author's Note: There you have it! Also, I didn't mention the way they obtained children, I've left it up to your own interpretations. If you like m-preg you can imagine it that way, or if you don't they could've had a surrogate mother or something. That's it for this fic! Thanks for reading/reviewing and see you next time! :)**

****For those who are reading this again and noticed a few differences in the layout and details from before, I've gone through this a second time and edited it to make it easier to read. **


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